Soul Searching
by SA17
Summary: Everyone has a breaking point. Watch as the denizens of Tree Hill reach theirs...4 Long Chapters and an Afterword. Please read&review, thanks.
1. Another Day

As he wiped away the last of grease from the tabletop, Lucas Scott sighed and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. It was late. Ten o'clock to be exact and he was still closing shop for the evening. Work had been pretty rough what with at least double the amount of customers coming into the driveway, asking about this and that, leaving and picking up their cars, and just generally annoying Lucas and his uncle Keith to no end. But now everything was quiet, the garage door left wide open so Lucas could spray down the concrete floor of the garage.   
  
"So tired," Lucas mumbled to himself as he placed the greasy rag he was working with on a tool chest and began to gather the water hose in his hands. The young man had a more strenuous day than usual. He had started his day by practicing his game in the playground. Lately he had been practicing alone, wanting to improve his shot without all of the commentary and playful taunts of his friends. They were good guys but sometimes Lucas needed to be alone. Those mornings were just the time where he could shoot and think about everything that he would do for the day and everything he would do in the future.  
  
He would think about high school and how much more interesting it was becoming. He would think about what college he wanted to get into if he did well on the upcoming SATs. But then he began to think again about the game and lo and behold thoughts of Nathan Scott, his arrogant half-brother, crept into his mind and sank their claws into his emotions. He missed a three-pointer and silently cursed himself as he ran over to retrieve the ball from the dew covered grass. Standing erect once again, he remembered the most recent words that his asshole of a brother had said to him:  
  
"You're game's tired, kid," Nathan had called from the sideline, "Why don't you just accept the fact that you just can't deal?"  
  
To which Lucas quietly replied, "And why don't you just piss off?"  
  
Of course, Nathan made a scoffing sound and turned around walking back to his gas-guzzling SUV. "See you at practice, loser," he called from his car door before slamming it and driving away from the playground.   
  
That little exchange of words was only a couple of days ago but they still rang fresh in Lucas' mind. He couldn't understand why Nathan hated him so much. Correction, he couldn't understand why Dan hated him so much. Lucas always knew that as selfish, arrogant, and ego-driven Nathan was he had only gotten that way mainly because of his father...their father.  
  
Lucas shuddered at this thought and began his game again, dribbling the ball for a moment before sinking several three-pointers and a two-pointer to make up for his missed shot.   
  
"Don't worry about that man," Karen, his mother, had always told him, "When you see him, don't address him. Act as if...he's the last person you would ever speak to."  
  
"Mom, I know what to do," Lucas had always replied with slight exasperation.  
  
"Yes, I know. It's just that I want you to know that you are not Dan and even though he's..."  
  
Lucas looked up at his mother and frowned slightly, not wanting her to say what he knew she was going to say. Instead, she rephrased her sentence accordingly.  
  
"Even though you two have a connection, rest assure you will never be like him," Karen said and smiled, flattening a stray lock of dirty blonde hair on her son's head.  
  
"I'll never be like him," Lucas repeated quietly as he sank another basket in the hoop, the morning sun's rays shining more vividly above the buildings in the distance, "I'll never be like him...I'll never be like him."  
  
***  
  
Lucas finally drove to school after almost an hour's worth of practicing. With little time to fix himself up, he reapplied deodorant under his arms, ran his hands through his hair a couple of times, grabbed his backpack and stepped out of the truck that he parked in a roadside parking space in front of the school.   
  
He prepared to face the new day, one that was not so ordinary anymore. With his recent inception into the high school's varsity team, Lucas had become something of an icon amongst many of the students, especially those that used to think of him only as the car salesman's illegitimate son. He was especially lusted after by the girls of Tree Hill High School, constantly getting wolf whistles and "Hi, Luke" from some of the hottest girls around, something that didn't occur as often when he was relatively a nobody.  
  
"What's up, Luke," a young guy, a teammate of his, called as he ran toward the door.  
  
"Hey," Lucas responded half-heartedly as the guy made his way into the building without receiving Lucas' reply.   
  
As Lucas made his way into the building, he noticed that the floods of kids were beginning to file into their classrooms. But he wasn't paying much attention to anyone else. He was trying to find her...  
  
"Luke!" a familiar voice called.  
  
Lucas smiled and walked over to the short, auburn haired young woman that he knew as Haley James, his best friend and closest confidant. He stopped in front of her, leaning against a locker as she sifted through her own.  
  
"Practicing again," Haley asked as she looked over to Lucas and smiled before returning her attention back to her locker.  
  
"Of course," Lucas said as he placed his arm on the door of the locker, "I've gotta keep my game fresh. And practicing every morning is the way to do it."  
  
"Huh. And I suppose showering is not as important," Haley remarked as she pulled out a thick hardback book labeled "The American History".  
  
"Is it that bad?" Lucas inquired, worry clearly in his eyes.  
  
"Only if you stand about three yards away it is," Haley said as she closed the locker door, forcing Lucas to remove his arm quickly. She smiled, "I'm just kidding. But seriously, you look a mess. Why not practice later in the day?"  
  
"I've got my reasons," Lucas said as the two began to walk toward her first class as was their daily ritual for many years.  
  
"Oh, well excuse me for trying to learn more about my best friend," Haley said with slight sarcasm as she gripped the heavy history book across her chest, "...it doesn't have anything to do with Nathan, does it?" she asked after a moments silence.  
  
"Haley..." Lucas started, very exasperated with the fact that she should bring up Nathan now of all times.  
  
"Look, I'm just wondering, all right," Haley protested as they continued to walk at their slow pace, "We're getting more serious every week and you're my best friend. I have a right to know if you two are getting along."  
  
"And what do you think," Lucas asked as he turned his head, shaking it slightly with annoyance. Haley noticed this and huffed.   
  
"Look, Lucas. I told him to lay off you. But you've gotta make an effort. I know he's not the nicest of people but if you just try to see him through my eyes for just a moment you'll see he's not such a bad guy."  
  
"Haley, you just don't get it, do you? Nathan and I will never get along, period. Aside from the game we have absolutely nothing in common and we can't stand to be in the same town with one another let alone a basketball team. And he's a fucking addict, too," Lucas remarked.  
  
Haley stopped dead in her tracks at this remark. "What is that supposed to mean, Lucas?"  
  
Lucas stopped a few steps ahead of her and turned to face her, his thumbs underneath the strap of his backpack. "You know what I mean, Hales," Lucas replied, "The guy's a lush. He took steroids to beef up his game and got addicted. For God's sake, he collapsed on the court but still took them anyway before his mom, the only person that actually gives a damn about him..."  
  
"I give a damn about him, Lucas," Haley exclaimed.  
  
"But apparently he doesn't care so much about you," Lucas replied, "Remember, he tried to take out his frustrations on you. If I hadn't..."  
  
"He wouldn't have hurt me, I know he wouldn't," Haley said, "You being there wouldn't have made a difference in that."  
  
"Haley, please. You've got to..."  
  
"No! Lucas just please shut up about him!" Haley cried suddenly, silencing Lucas' words, "Just...stop."  
  
Lucas shook his head, a mix of anger and hurt in his eyes, but deciding against retaliatory words he sighed and rubbed his temples. "Look, Hales...I'm sorry, all right? I shouldn't go off on rants like this especially when..."  
  
But Haley did not allow Lucas to finish. "Lucas...I'm so tired of your apologies."  
  
Lucas was stunned silent by her sudden words.  
  
"I...I don't know how many times we've had this same argument and how many times I've just...let it go; let you make empty apologies for your hurtful words against someone I love. But...not today..." Haley said quietly but with firmness and brimming anger in her voice. "Don't bother talking to me today," Haley said after a tense silence between them and she passed him as she made her way to her class.  
  
"Hales!" Lucas called, "Haley!"  
  
But the young woman ignored his calls, distancing herself from him then turning a corner, an expression of anger on her face.  
  
Lucas sighed and with a balled fist hit a locker door that was close by. "Dammit," Lucas cursed.  
  
***  
  
Peyton Sawyer sat at a table alone during lunch making sketches in a notebook. Sighing, she made small scribbles of various people she knew: Brooke, Haley, Lucas, her father...her mother. Peyton sighed as she brought back her mother's memory then immediately groaned at her thoughts. She tore the page out of her notebook and threw it on the tabletop.  
  
"Hey," a familiar voice said and Peyton made a short smile, glad to hear his voice. She turned to find Lucas standing behind her, looking like a dork with his brown bag lunch in hand. "Can I sit here?"  
  
"As long as you don't dork up the place with that brown bag, sure," Peyton joked and watched as Lucas sat across from her at the table.   
  
"So," Lucas asked as he began digging his lunch from the bag. A sandwich, potato chips, and a soft drink were soon produced from the wrinkled brown bag.  
  
" 'So'...what?" Peyton said, not looking up from her sketches.  
  
"What were you drawing?" Lucas asked as he began to unwrap the thin layer of plastic wrap to get to the meaty sandwich, "I saw you...tearing that piece of paper out of your book at the last minute."  
  
"Are you never concerned about your own problems," Peyton asked as she looked up at him for a moment, her blonde curls almost hiding her sharp blue eyes, "Or are all your problems coincidentally my problems, too?"  
  
Lucas smiled and replied, "No, I just want to know. Whatever you draw is important to me."  
  
Peyton smiled at this remark. "Well, I was drawing things...people that I know. Brooke, the cheerleaders, my dad, YOU," she said with more emphasis but then she stopped smiling, "...my mom."  
  
Lucas looked at Peyton for a while. "Peyton..."  
  
"You know," Peyton interrupted as she closed her sketchbook and slid it to the side and brought the remainder of her lunch back in front of her, "Let's talk less about my drawings and my life and more about you. So, how's the team?"  
  
Lucas sighed inwardly but allowed Peyton to have her way, "It's going...not all that it's cracked up to be but at least I'm doing something I love. And Whitey's pretty cool."  
  
"Good," Peyton said, "Nathan giving you any grief?"  
  
"When is he not?" Lucas said with a bit of anger in his tone, "And now he's messing around with Haley...I just can't stand it."  
  
The mention of Haley ruffled Peyton a bit and she shifted in her seat. "Haley, huh," she asked, "She's really special to you, isn't she?"  
  
Lucas looked up at Peyton after he took a bite of his sandwich. He promptly swallowed after a few chews, "Well, yeah. She is my best friend. We've known each other since we were babies."  
  
A silence reigned over the table as Lucas continued to eat. Peyton was aching to ask a question that she was afraid to pose but felt it was justifiable.  
  
"Do you love her?" Peyton asked suddenly just as Lucas was about to take another bite of his sandwich.  
  
"As a friend, yes. We went out for a time but it wasn't anything serious. I...hey, Peyton why did you ask that?"  
  
"Like I said, we're talking about you now," Peyton said, "And I want to know. Are you just screwing around with me, trying to get in my pants even though you like that girl Haley?"  
  
"What!? Peyton, no!" Lucas said with a mix of shock and disgust in his voice, "Where the hell is this coming from?"  
  
"Lucas, I would rather you not lie to me right now, all right?" Peyton said in a kind of pleading tone, "Please, just...be honest."  
  
"I am being honest," Lucas replied, throwing down his sandwich, "God, what is with you today?"  
  
"I talked to Haley and she told me what happened between you two this morning," Peyton exclaimed, "Now I'm sorry if my concern about this whole thing seems a bit out of place to you but after dealing for three years with an asshole like Nathan I want to know whether I'm being screwed over!"  
  
Some of the kids in the lunchroom turned to watch the heating argument between them, pointing and staring.  
  
"For future reference," Lucas said in a lower tone, "Remember who's been screwing around with whom. You've tugged me back and forth for months, saying all sorts of things that made me think we had a chance for a friendship, maybe something more, and then you dropped me like I was nothing. But I stayed with it. Now you want to ruin it all because of your jealousy? I thought we were going somewhere!"  
  
"We are, Luke," Peyton protested, "It's just that I want to be sure! You can understand, can't you?"  
  
"Yeah, I understand, Peyton," Lucas said as he began to stand up packing away his lunch, "I understand that no matter what I do and no matter how hard I try I will NEVER be what you want!" With that statement, Lucas walked away from the table.  
  
"Lucas, wait a minute!" Peyton said standing up from her chair but the young man had already left the cafeteria. Peyton fell back to her chair, disregarding the laughs and incoherent taunts of the students around her. Sighing deeply, she picked up her sketchbook and her lunch tray and left as well.  
  
***  
  
It was later that afternoon when Lucas had finished with practice when Nathan intentionally rammed into his half-brother, knocking his slightly older sibling back.  
  
"What the hell is your problem," Lucas said as he stepped up to Nathan, their faces so close together they were almost touching.  
  
"I want you to stay away from Haley, you bastard," Nathan said as he pushed Lucas away from him. This time Lucas stayed back. "It's bad enough she's had to deal with me being an asshole these last few months but now her so-called best friend is on her case? Jesus, man what's your deal?"  
  
"She had no reason to be upset in my opinion. We were only talking about you," Lucas countered, "And about everything that you've done to her. Deep down I know she believes everything I said to her. She's just not ready to admit it."  
  
"And who are you," Nathan asked throwing his arms up in the air, "Are you the one that makes her choices? Are you going to tell her what to do? Huh?"  
  
"Of course not," Lucas replied, "But..."  
  
"Then I don't want to hear it," Nathan snapped, cutting Lucas off, "Haley has a mind of her own. If she wants to stay with me, she'll stay with me! If she wants to drop me like the sack of garbage that I probably am, then she will! But it's her decision to make. Not mine and sure as hell not yours!"  
  
Lucas was suddenly feeling very remorseful for his remarks to Haley earlier.  
  
"You know..." Nathan started, "I almost thought that we were getting along. I know, we still don't agree on things and we have our fights but...I try to be as nice as I can."  
  
"What about what you said at the playground," Lucas shot back, "You call that being 'nice'?"  
  
"Wha...oh, God. I can't even remember what I said. But whatever it was I was just being an ass. I'm like that with all of my friends. But what you're saying to Haley...you're ruining her happiness."  
  
"And you're ruining her life by staying with her!" Lucas exclaimed.  
  
Nathan scowled at Lucas for his remark but backed down, remembering the promise he made to Haley, "I like to think of myself as a work in progress, ya know? It's because of Haley that I've been able to pick up some of the slack and be a better person. She's showing me things about myself that I never knew were there. Doesn't she do that for you?"  
  
Lucas remained quiet, refusing to discuss matters of his best friend to his worst enemy.  
  
Nathan shook his head and became angry once again, "Fine! I've tried my best and now I'm not trying anymore! You're a loser and I'm glad Haley finally sees that!"  
  
Lucas shook his head and turned his back to the door, his face burning with anger.  
  
***  
  
Lucas drove into work unhappy and discontent with the day. But, as usual, whatever problems he had would have to wait until after his shift as Keith was busy with so many customers and would not be fully accessible until things slowed down. Of course, with the winter season closing in, the garage was bustling with more people than usual, with both Lucas and Keith running around trying to fix everything including people's malcontent with their wait.  
  
Eventually the busy day wore on to a busy evening with Lucas taking a short break to go and pick up a couple of sandwiches from his mother's diner for both him and Keith. Finally, when nine o'clock rolled around, the garage finally began to see a decrease in traffic until it was just the same regulars-old men with long shaggy beards and greasy overalls-popping in to chew the fat with Keith. Soon, Keith flipped over the sign to the closed side and sighed, sitting down at a massive worktable that Lucas had spread a couple of long towels across.   
  
"So what did you get for us today," Keith asked.  
  
"Hope you like hoagies," Lucas called from the back room as he retrieved two sandwiches massive in his right hand and two canned sodas in his left.  
  
"Love em'," Keith replied as he took a sandwich and a can from Lucas' hands and sat them on the table. Lucas sat down at the table and unwrapped his sandwich and began to eat. The two men were silent for a while until Keith sparked up a conversation. "So, how was school today," he said after swallowing a portion of his sandwich.  
  
"Sucked. Don't want to talk about it," Lucas replied in a low tone as he quietly chewed his food.  
  
"Why? Aren't you supposed to be Mr. Popular now that you're on varsity?" Keith asked as he took a swig of his grape soda.  
  
"You wouldn't think so with all the people that have been ragging on me today," Lucas replied.  
  
"What did you do," Keith asked knowingly.  
  
Lucas turned his head and gave his uncle an expression of disbelief, "Why is it that you always think it's my fault?" Lucas asked.  
  
"Because it usually is, Luke," Keith answered after taking another bite from his sandwich. He took time to chew before finally swallowing his food. "You either say or do something that's out of line and then you end up paying for it later. At least, that's how it usually is."  
  
Lucas sighed, "It's like everyone is against me," he mumbled.  
  
"Oh, now you know that's not true, boy," Keith said, "So tell me what happened."  
  
"Well, I was talking to Haley about Nathan and..." Lucas began but was cut off by Keith's light chuckle followed by a snort as he chewed on his sandwich.  
  
Swallowing again he replied, "You never, EVER judge your best friend's choice in men. Especially when you went out with said friend years ago. What were you thinking?"  
  
"I was thinking about my best friend and how much better she can do!" Lucas exclaimed, "I was thinking about how Nathan is scum and how Haley is pure and kind and generous and..."  
  
"You were thinking about yourself, that's what you were thinking about," Keith interrupted as he took another swig from the soda can, "You were thinking about all the little things you could say to get Haley back to yourself."  
  
"What? I don't like Haley that way, Keith," Lucas protested.  
  
"Yeah, I know you don't. But it looks like you're not willing to share her with anyone else, either. Despite the fact that she has a mind of her own, that she's not your girlfriend, and that she's chosen to associate with my asshole of a brother's son."  
  
Lucas laughed at that last remark but was still reeling from the rest of his statement. "But really, Keith. It's Nathan. Nathan! We're talking about the mirror image of Dan. What if he..." Lucas fell silent.  
  
"What if he what? Does what Dan did? Knocks her up and leaves her high and dry? Well then you'll have the right to say 'I told you so'," Keith replied bluntly.  
  
"That's not what I meant," Lucas replied quietly as he took another bite of his sandwich.  
  
"Maybe it's something that you would never say but I know you think about it," Keith remarked, "What if Haley becomes the town's next outcast all because she got involved with the wrong guy? We can't know for sure if that'll ever happen. Personally, I don't think Haley is dumb enough fall into that trap. But even if she was and she did...what would you do about it?"  
  
Lucas looked up at his uncle, noticing that the older man was looking back at him. He knew his uncle expected an answer from him. "...I would do everything I could to protect her."  
  
Keith chuckled, "Spoken like a true hero, son. Just remember: not all people need saving and sometimes...well, sometimes you just have to let things go." After a time of silence, Keith asked, "Anything else you want to talk about?"  
  
Lucas looked at his uncle for a moment longer, thinking about the situation he had with Peyton but he decided it would be better if he settled that problem on his own. Lucas returned his gaze to his sandwich. "No. Thanks, Uncle Keith," he said quietly as he took another bite of the hoagie.  
  
"It's what I'm here for," Keith said and took a final swig of his soda before getting up. "I'm gonna go straighten up outside, make sure everything's locked down for the evening, you know the usual. I want you to put all the parts away, wipe down the tables, and then open the garage door and spray down the floor as soon as you finish eating."  
  
"All right," Lucas said and made a slight smile to Keith.   
  
Keith returned the smile and walked out of the garage, closing the slightly ajar door behind him.  
  
***  
  
The splatter of water across the concrete floor of the garage was soothing to Lucas, lulling him into a trance like state as he tried to forget the day's worries and conflicts. It was odd to him that he could feel so at peace while doing something as time-consuming as spraying down an oily floor. Sighing deeply, he thought about his uncle's words and how they rang true on so many levels it wasn't even funny. The man was intelligent if nothing else and could read people like he could build an auto engine: very easily. Lucas was once again amazed by his uncle's talents and was thankful that at least one member of the Scott family wasn't a complete and total waste of real estate.   
  
Lucas suddenly noticed movement from the corner of his eye and looked up from the floor to find a tall, skinny white man with receding gray hair wearing an oversized blue T-shirt and raggedy black jeans making his way toward the garage, his cherry red, Ford pickup, a '93 model, parked illegally along the curb. The man shuffled toward the garage, unsure at first but then with a bit more beat in his step as he made his way closer.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, but we're closed for the evening," Lucas said with a slight smile although he knew not to get too comfortable with this stranger around, "If you come back tomorrow Keith will be able to check you out."  
  
The man's eyes scanned the garage that he was surrounded by, darting from a table, to the floor, to a toolbox, and then finally focusing on the source of the voice that was addressing him. "I came here to ask something," the man said in clear yet slightly slow speech.   
  
"Well that's different," Lucas said as he walked backward with the hose in his hand and while looking very natural, turned off the running water all while maintaining eye contact with the man. "Ask away. I'll try to help."  
  
"I want to know," the man began, "Why you think it's right to steal people's things from their car. Huh?"  
  
Lucas was suddenly becoming very alarmed, his smile fading ever so slightly. "Excuse me, sir?" Lucas said in a calm manner.  
  
"You heard me," the man snapped, "I want to know why you people...you Scott's think you're entitled to take what's not yours, God dammit!"  
  
Lucas' smile suddenly faded and he became aware of the situation, knowing that it was time to boot this guy out. As he walked toward the man, pointing toward the garage door he said politely yet firmly, "Sir, I have no idea what you're talking about but I suggest you leave. Now let me just..."  
  
But Lucas was stopped dead in his tracks when the man revealed a gun from his back pocket, the teen immediately raising his arms to show that he would not come any closer or do anything to harm the crazed man.   
  
"You stay the hell away!" the man shouted, "I've got a gun! I'm not afraid to use it!"  
  
"Sir, please put the gun away," Lucas said calmly although his voice was trembling with fear, "I'm not going to hurt you. Just put the gun away."  
  
The man made a sort of groaning sound as he rubbed his eyes; bloodshot eyes, trying desperately to focus, stared into the fearful blue eyes of Lucas. "You stole it from me, didn't you? You took it out of my car and kept it for yourself! Didn't you!?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Lucas cried, "I don't know what you're talking about! Please...just put the gun away. Let's talk about this. Maybe...I don't know, maybe w-we can find it. Just put the gun away, please."  
  
"But I looked everywhere," the man said and groaned again, "Just...just give it back and...and I won't bother you again."  
  
"What? What!? I don't have it, man!" Lucas protested, "I don't have what you're talking about!"  
  
"Stop LYING!!" the man screamed and pointed the gun at Lucas and in one split second the gun went off, an odd echo resonating inside the garage that flowed out into the quiet darkness of the evening.   
  
Lucas had covered his head in an attempt to protect himself from the bullet but when he realized nothing seemed wrong he immediately charged at the man, bringing him down to the floor. Taking his gun away, Lucas got back up although he suddenly felt extraordinarily weary, the distinct odor of alcohol and marijuana emanating from the man was clouding his senses. He noticed that the man had blood all over his blue shirt, which was odd considering that Lucas did nothing to draw blood from the man as much as he wanted to.   
  
For some reason, maybe because it felt so warm, Lucas drew his hand over his left side in an attempt to see what was amiss.   
  
"I'll get you," the man screamed as he gathered himself up, "I'll get you!"   
  
Keith had made his way back around to the garage door only to immediately collide into the fleeing man. "Hey!!" Keith yelled but the man did not stop, running all the way to his pickup. The truck started up and skidded away in only a few moments time.  
  
"Lucas are you..." Keith's words halted as he turned back around to look at his nephew. He made a gasp then a deep groan, saying quietly, "Oh, Lucas, no."  
  
Lucas was sitting on the wet, concrete floor, his right hand pressed against his left side in a feeble attempt to stop the wound from bleeding profusely. Lucas was shivering, his breathing ragged as he tried desperately to aid himself.   
  
"Lucas!!" Keith screamed and ran to his nephew's side, pulling off his shirt and balling it up, placing it over Lucas' hand. "God, Lucas, no..." Keith cried, "Please hang on! Just hang on, dammit! I'm gonna get you help!"  
  
Lucas only shuddered as he began to cry, his tears freely flowing down his face as he looked at his uncle. Through his ragged breathing, Lucas managed to speak with fear ever present in his eyes and his voice, "N-no, no! P-please, Keith...d-don't l-leave me h-here!"  
  
"Lucas," Keith pleaded but he suddenly realized that his nephew's eyes were closing and that the convulsions and the ragged breathing and the pulsing blood were slowly fading away into nothingness. "No...no!" Keith yelled as he grabbed his nephew's shoulder with his free hand, "Wake up! You're not going to do this to me! You're not going to do this to your mother! You hear me, boy! Wake up!!"  
  
But Lucas would no longer open his eyes. As his final breath escaped his slightly parted lips, Lucas' hand, which had so diligently stayed firm against his wound, suddenly fell limp against Keith's.  
  
"No..." Keith whispered, his eyes burning with tears, "No, you can't...no. You jus...Lucas..." It was all that Keith could get out before falling into a fit of body racking sobs as he roughly embraced his nephew's body, his head upturned to the ceiling, eyes closed tightly, his mouth open in a silent sob as his neck strained with veins trying desperately to contain emotion. Then all of it was released into another sob as Keith buried his head into Lucas', kissing the tear soaked, stubbly cheek gently, as any grieving father would have done.   
  
At that moment, Keith felt like he had lost his own flesh and blood. 


	2. Nice Houses

His name was Ely Donalsen, an unemployed, 53 year old, ex-Marine that was discharged from the force after he was discovered to be HIV positive. Whether or not he contracted it through questionable means, the Marines immediately took this as a violation of the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy and his life in the force had officially come to an end. Though he tried to appeal the decision, he soon realized that nothing would be the same and he simply gave up.   
  
When he arrived back in Tree Hill, word had already traveled fast and rumors of his possible homosexuality leaked into the very heart of the town. No matter that the man did everything he could to protect this country during his time in the force, small-minded people could not look past mere possibilities and he became just another town pariah, lower than even Karen Roe who at least made something of herself after her scandalous relationship with Dan Scott. He tried to hold down jobs over the next few decades but his rage at the world and at himself prevented him from doing anything for very long, including making friends. What little family he did have in Tree Hill had moved away long ago: his sister along with her two children and his younger brother relocated to their respective states of California and Florida. His uncle had lost his fight against lung cancer while he was on the force, which made Ely feel even guiltier for not being there for the only father figure he ever had.  
  
So, Ely made it a point to start a new project: the gradual deterioration of his own life. Still HIV positive, he refused any and all treatment and instead opted to drink heavily and smoke marijuana, provided by a source from out of town. He became the man that was always arrested for DUIs, the man that was always found in the town jail, sobering up, only to get out and start his day all over again with another bottle of Jack Daniels and a fat blunt in the corner of his mouth as he drove around in the same cherry red Ford truck that he lived out of.   
  
Unemployed and desperate for money, one night Ely looked inside his glove compartment...and realized that his saving grace, his "last resort" bag of marijuana, was missing. In reality, he had simply misplaced the bag in the bed of his truck amidst the piles of clothes and personal belongings. Of course, an already doped up, drunken Ely knew the real reason for his missing drugs: the Scott boy. He had brought his truck in for an estimate, to which Keith and Lucas were glad to give for free. He noticed that the Scott boy was also looking inside his truck, on the passenger side. He made up an excuse that he wanted to make sure that the interior still looked good, too, but Ely knew better. He knew something was up with that kid. And now he knew for sure why his bag was gone.  
  
So, Ely took a drive. A slow cruise, looking around at the people that were slowly retreating from their places of business, locking up for the evening and getting into their nice cars, driving to their nice houses, to their warm families...  
  
"Oh..." Ely groaned quietly as he rubbed his eyes and then his temples, painfully aware of his aching migraine. He managed to refocus as much as he could on the road. Reaching for the silver volume knob on the radio, he turned up the twang of Garth Brooks' country music, tapping his hand along the steering wheel in a feeble attempt to stay alert. He looked over to the seat beside him: a gun sat comfortably, the barrel angled in a way to where it almost pointed to his feet. He had stolen that gun from one of those nice houses a few years ago, he couldn't remember exactly when. It was a brick house, with a nice looking lawn and a white garage door.   
  
"Must be nice," Ely whispered as he cracked open a locked drawer with a crowbar and rummaged through various documents: car sales documents, monetary amounts, fiscal gains and losses, varsity basketball information. Ely threw all of this to the side and found something a bit more interesting: a black box without a lock. Ely opened the box and saw something he would never have expected to be in such a "nice house": a .32 caliber revolver with six bullets lined on either side of the gun, all set neatly amidst black foam material, shined to perfection. Ely didn't waist any time, closing the box and stuffing it under his bleach-stained black shirt, which he also used to wipe down places where his hands had been. With crowbar in hand, he exited the house through the back door, taking care to wipe away his prints from the doorknobs and ran to his car.   
  
Shucking the box in the bed of his truck, he sped away before anyone was the wiser of his little escapade in the nice house. Later that day, he was questioned about his whereabouts just as any other ex-con was when the cops were notified of this recent break-in. Ely acted as expected, drunken as usual, saying he knew "nothin' at all".   
  
Now that same revolver sat at his side, its reflective surface revealing the white light from the passing streetlights. All but one bullet had been used on the most random of things: soda cans, rats, and trash were some of the few things that served as amusement for the old man while he drove out of state to pick up his next bag of happiness. No, this bullet was going to put to good use, he thought as he tapped his hand furiously, trying to keep pace with the blaring country music. Then he saw it: the open garage door with that Scott boy standing there with his back to him, a water hose in hand, spraying down the concrete floor of the garage.   
  
Ely had since turned down his music, unaware that he had parked alongside the curb. He didn't care. Looking at this boy sent a fit of rage into Ely, but he tried to calm down, gathering his nerves as he reached for the gun. Shifting sideways in his seat, he shoved the gun in the back pocket of his black jeans and cleared his throat.  
  
"Now you're gonna tell me..." Ely whispered to himself and opened the door, got out of his truck, and shut the door quietly. He began to make his way toward the open garage door, unsure at first at what he was doing. For some reason he stopped, frightfully aware of what might happen if he went any further. But something told him to go on, and as the Scott boy looked up at Ely and gave him a smile, Ely darted his eyes around trying to avoid his face.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," the Scott boy said politely, "But we're closed for the evening. If you come back tomorrow Keith will be able to check you out."  
  
Ely focused his eyes onto the boy after allowing them to roam across his surroundings. He only wanted to talk to the boy. Make him understand. And if things got bad, well...the boy could always go back to that nice house of his. That would make it all better.  
  
***  
  
Midnight. The sounds of people talking and exclaiming with fear in their voices had suddenly shaken the city awake. The source: Keith's garage off of 4th and Main. People had heard from others that there was a shooting. Some claimed they had heard the shot. Still others swear that they saw the shooter flee the scene, describing him as a crazed white man holding a gun in one hand, a wad of cash in the other, and an expression of evil plastered on his face. Others claimed he was short, black and wore a bright blue trench coat and it wasn't a gun but a knife that he was holding.  
  
Only Keith Scott, the only man that was there knew the truth and he was virtually inaccessible to anyone save for a single cop that stood before him, trying desperately to take the shock-ridden man's statement.  
  
"Why didn't you save him?" some simple-minded fool of a woman cried from the crowd, "He was your nephew! Why didn't you do something!?"  
  
Keith only sobbed at this, burying his face in his open hands, dreading what he would have to tell Karen. That is, if she did not already know what occurred.  
  
"Everyone please! Back off!" an officer yelled, "This is a crime scene! I need everyone to just back off!"  
  
And so the people did, standing back as officers ushered them away. The crowd was still restless, looking for something to see now that the body had been taken away. They were almost like vultures over a carcass, searching for the last ounce of blood that had made its initial journey from Lucas Scott's gunshot wound onto the cold, concrete floor of the garage. They sought something that would make them swoon, make them grimace in disgust, something that they could have in their memory to sensationalize to someone, anyone that would listen that night and the next day so they could seem important. Since they didn't see the crime, they might as well get a good look at the scene of commotion.  
  
"Keith," a man's voice said in a soothing manner, "I need you to tell me what happened. Please."  
  
Keith looked up from his hands at the officer, who had crouched beside him to get eye contact with him. Keith had not budged from the place where his nephew had died, suffering from an impossible amount of shock and grief that prevented him from lifting himself up to ride with Lucas on the way to the hospital. No. Instead Keith sat there, face wet with tears and his nephew's blood staining his hands, beside Lucas' place of death, a horrifically massive spot of crimson marking the spot. Keith had never fathomed that someone could have so much blood. Even as the paramedics lifted Lucas' body, he saw his nephew's shirt: most of the back stained and dripping with the dark fluid that Keith had suddenly become so acquainted with. And he watched helplessly as they lifted his body onto a stretcher and groaned deeply as he saw Lucas' left arm fall lifelessly over the side of the stretcher, hanging there as the paramedics wheeled him away.  
  
"Lucas..." Keith whispered anxiously and scrambled to get up from the floor but a cop held him down, realizing that Keith was in no condition to do anything at the moment. And so Keith struggled, watching as the paramedics lifted Lucas up into the air and then immediately shoved his body into the ambulance. After loading him securely, one of the paramedics hopped in while another closed both doors and beat harshly on the back of the van, signaling for the driver to take off.   
  
And it did, the sirens ring piercing Keith's ears as he watched the ambulance drive away with his nephew in tow as they tried, in vain, to revive him. He knew there was no more hope. Once he saw Lucas draw his final breath, something deep within told him everything he needed to know. His heart ached as he watched the ambulance disappear, although he could still hear the sirens wail even after the vehicle had fallen out of sight.   
  
"Keith, please," the same officer pleaded yet still calm, still soothing, "You need to tell me what you know."  
  
Keith looked up at the officer, his eyes red and bloodshot, wet from an overflow of tears. The officer himself also seemed to express much emotion not only for Keith but also for the young man that had died. "Keith...let me nail this sick bastard for you," the officer said in a lower tone, "Just tell me what you saw."  
  
Keith turned his head away from the man slowly, looking toward the crowd of people that was now slowly dissipating into the night, getting enough information for the stories that they would tell to whomever chose to listen. Keith sniffled and said with a quavering voice, "I-I have to tell K-Karen. A-after this, I h-have to t-tell Karen."  
  
"I know," the officer said and quickly whipped out a pen and paper in anticipation of Keith's account, "Just go ahead. Take your time."  
  
Keith sniffled again, sobbing quietly as he closed his eyes, fresh tears running down his face. He knew what he had to do.  
  
***  
  
With golden curls falling over her face, Peyton sighed as she angled the pencil in her hands to sketch a firm, dark line across the sheet of paper. Drawing a hand through her hair, she kicked up her leg as she made the connection from one line to another, completing the face of a young man that held a passing resemblance to one Lucas Scott. She placed the pencil down on her bed and took the drawing in her hands, studying the picture before finally getting up and walking over to her desk. Placing her sketchbook down on the desktop with the picture on top of the book, she sat in the chair and looked into the camera that broadcast her image over the net for anyone to see. She wondered if Lucas was watching or if the young man was even thinking about her. Pouting her lip, she fiddled with a pencil on her desk until her phone rang. She picked it up and answered, "Hello?"  
  
"Hey," a familiar female voice replied.  
  
"What's up?" Peyton asked as she shifted in her chair. Although she was glad to hear from Brooke, she had secretly hoped that Lucas was on the other end.  
  
" 'What's up'? Is that all you can ask me," Brooke Davis asked, "What about 'How are you feeling, Brooke? Do you need anything, Brooke?' Show some compassion for your sick friend."  
  
"Okay," Peyton said, "Why weren't you in school today, Brooke? Decided to make playing hooky popular again?"  
  
"Hey, I really was sick...for an hour," Brooke replied and chuckled.  
  
Peyton couldn't help but chuckle along with her best friend as well. As much as she longed to speak to Lucas again Brooke was a welcome distraction from her problems with him. "So what did you do today?" Peyton asked, "Daddy take you on a shopping spree?"  
  
"His credit card did," Brooke replied slyly, "And girl did I shop today! Whoo! It was well worth a week's punishment. Mom even convinced him that I should keep everything, too."  
  
"You're such a spoiled brat," Peyton said as she shook her head, smiling at her best friend's utter gall, "Only you could get away with something like that with only a week's punishment."  
  
"Hey! I say that being grounded for a week is more than enough punishment for a girl like me. It's almost unfair," Brooke protested, "But I guess they've gotta make boundaries somewhere, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess so," Peyton said. There was a moment of silence between the two of them, something that was becoming more and more common in their phone conversations.  
  
"So talk to me, girlfriend," Brooke said suddenly, "How's it going with you and that hot piece of blue collar material?"  
  
Peyton sighed, not really wanting to talk about matters of Lucas with someone who was almost his girlfriend, even if she was her best friend first. But she decided that she was better than nothing else. "Well, it's going," Peyton replied, "But I've got this feeling that we're about to hit a dead end."  
  
"What? Girl, please. You and Luke are heating up!" Brooke exclaimed, "There is absolutely no way the both of you aren't getting together. He's available, you're most definitely available, and there's nothing holding the both of you back."  
  
"No excess baggage?" Peyton asked as she clicked on her mouse to bring up her web browser.  
  
"That's right," Brooke answered, "None at all...or is there?"  
  
Peyton was quiet as she rolled the mouse and clicked a few buttons on the screen with the arrow pointer.  
  
"Peyton, I asked you a question," Brooke said firmly, "What's the deal?"  
  
"And why do you want to really know, Brooke," Peyton snapped, "Are you gonna swoop in for the kill if I say anything that shows I have doubts?"  
  
"What?" Brooke protested, "What the hell, Peyton?"  
  
"Oh, come on, Brooke! Don't act all innocent. You did it once and you'll do it again! We both know you will!" Peyton accused harshly.  
  
"Listen to what you're saying, Peyton," Brooke replied heatedly, "Do you realize that what's coming out of your mouth is complete and total garbage? What did I tell you I would do when you told me you were going to start seriously pursuing Luke?"  
  
"That you would back off," Peyton said, "But..."  
  
"But nothing," Brooke interrupted sharply, "Now I don't know who you think I am but when I say I'll back off, I'm being honest. Don't start confusing me with that asshole of an ex Nathan. I actually keep my promises."  
  
Peyton sighed deeply, running her hand through her hair. "God! What the hell is wrong with me today? I'm just feeling so insecure," Peyton said, "I feel so...so..."  
  
"Lost?" Brooke suggested.  
  
Silence reigned over the phone.  
  
"Yeah...how did you know?" Peyton asked as she sat back in her chair, her hand away from the mouse.  
  
"Because you've been acting like you are. You seem to not know where you want to go or what you want to do. And... I admire you for that," Brooke stated, "At least you have the balls to admit it. I on the other hand..."  
  
"Brooke..." Peyton started but was stopped by Brooke's voice.  
  
"Peyton, please. I'm so clueless as to what I want in life it's scary sometimes. Now I say sometimes because at least I have friends like you to show me that life's not so...scary. If that makes any sense."  
  
"Not really," Peyton said and chuckled, "But I think I get your point."  
  
"Peyton...if you're afraid or if you ever need to talk, please...talk to me. I'm not just some ditsy cheerleader, you know?" Brooke remarked.  
  
"I know that and I don't think of you that way," Peyton said. After a moment Peyton said in a tiny voice, "Still friends?"  
  
"Of course!" Brooke said and giggled over the phone. "So, let's change subjects. I want to talk about what you plan on doing this winter break."  
  
"Well," Peyton said, "I don't know really. I haven't thought about it much. My dad and I usually go to Tennesse to visit family but he's not really up to it this year and neither am I, so..." Peyton trailed off.  
  
"Well," Brooked began, "I'm thinking of going with my parents to Hawaii! How does that sound?"  
  
"Sounds great!" Peyton beamed with genuine excitement as she sat up in her chair, "Oh my God, how did your parents score such a kick-ass trip?"  
  
"Well, remember when I told you daddy got a raise at his job? Well, he was able to save up enough money to buy plane tickets and make reservations, all for a trip to Hawaii!"  
  
"That's great, Brooke!" Peyton exclaimed.  
  
"But this is where it gets good," Brooke said in a lower tone, "Daddy still had money left over and he was able to buy another plane ticket and make one more reservation, as per my bugging him about it."  
  
"You didn't..." Peyton exclaimed, actually rising from her chair, her mouth wide open in anticipation of what she thought she was going to hear next.  
  
"Yes! If you want, you can come along!" Brooke exclaimed.  
  
"Oh my God, Brooke!" Peyton exclaimed, "Oh, thank you so much! You're the best!"  
  
"Yeah, I know," Brooke joked while laughing, "But yeah, that's also why I was out of school today. I didn't want to risk telling you until the time was just right. Do you think your dad will be cool with it?"  
  
"I'm sure he will," Peyton said and sighed giddily. Sitting back down she chuckled again. "Gosh...I really needed that. You weren't just saying all that to get me happy, were you?"  
  
"I'm dead serious," Brooke said, "Cross my heart!"  
  
"Thank you so much," Peyton said with a calmer and even more heartfelt tone. Peyton felt deep down that she truly needed this vacation.  
  
"No problem, girl. You've done so much for me and I think it's about time I repay the favor," Brooke replied. "But I gotta get going. We've got a long day tomorrow. You're picking me up in the morning, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Peyton said with another short chuckle in her voice, "Sleep well, Brooke. And thanks again!"  
  
"Stop, you're killing me!" Brooke said in jest, "Bye!"  
  
"Bye!" Peyton said and replaced the receiver on the phone. Sighing, Peyton looked into the camera with a smile, not believing what had just went down and how good her best friend truly was. For that one moment her problems were lifted from her soul. Even as she stared at the vaguely recognizable drawing of Lucas the young woman could only smile, remembering only the good in her relationship with the young man.  
  
But something made her lose her smile almost instantly: the sound of an ambulance siren in the far distance. If she was doing anything else she may have not noticed it but there it was, faint from behind her window. She turned to look at the window but could not see anything as was to be expected considering that paramedics never made it a habit to drive through neighborhoods. As Peyton got up however, her hip grazed against the drawing of Lucas, causing the drawing to fall to the floor. She turned to look at the drawing lying on the floor, covered in the shadows that the light from her small lamp could not reach.  
  
The faint sound of the ambulance siren soon faded into the night.  
  
***  
  
The blue and white police vehicle parked into the driveway at about two thirty A.M., with an emotionally drained Keith sitting in the front of the vehicle. The man stared out of the windshield, his face racked with pain, cheeks still wet from recent tears. The officer that had escorted him home put the vehicle in park and turned to face the man that had lost his nephew. "Keith..."  
  
"Wait!" Keith yelled then turned to face the officer, gasping before taking in a trembling breath and said, "I'm sorry, just...can we wait here a moment? Please."  
  
The officer nodded but added, "I'll wait but...the boy's mother can't wait forever. She's gotta know."  
  
Keith nodded slowly, still staring at the officer with teary eyes as his head bobbed up and down. With his head still nodding, he turned and faced the passenger side window, looking out at the quaint little house of Karen Roe. A dim light could be seen and he could see what appeared to be the silhouette of Karen in the living room.  
  
"She's waiting, Keith," the officer said, snapping the man out of his daze, "If you can't do it, I'll..."  
  
"I'll do it!!" Keith yelled darting his head back toward the officer who was slightly fazed by Keith's sudden explosion of anger. The officer could see new tears streaming down his face as they bored back into his. Keith shook his head and repeated in a subdued tone, "...I'll do it."  
  
***  
  
Karen Roe was pacing. Pacing across her living floor in her nightgown, her arms crossed across her chest. Her face was filled with worry, her eyes fearful. She didn't know where neither her son nor Keith were. She had last talked to Keith at about nine-fifty at night.   
  
"The place was packed today so we're gonna be awhile. We should be in by ten-thirty, eleven at the very latest," Keith had said to her over the phone when he called her at the diner.  
  
Karen, though busy closing her own business for the night, still played the role of a concerned if not overprotective parent by replying, "Are you sure, Keith? Lucas needs his rest."  
  
"I promise, Kare," Keith assured her.  
  
"All right. You two have fun," Karen had said and that was the last she had heard of either one of them.  
  
It was now two forty-five and Karen was beyond pissed: she was now officially worried and scared. What had happened to them? Were they all right? Were they hurt? Or did she hear wrong and Keith really said a later time which got Karen's blood bubbling at the very thought of Keith keeping her son out so late on a school night.   
  
But when she heard the door open from the kitchen she ran to find Keith shuffling into the darkness. Karen stopped in the doorway connecting the kitchen to the living room. "Well, thank God!" Karen exclaimed although with an angry tone in her voice, "I was thinking all sorts of things while you and my son were out on the town! What the hell were you two thinking!? Lucas has school and you're supposed to be setting an example, Keith!"  
  
But Keith said nothing and Karen noticed the man was in a rather subdued state. "Keith, have you been drinking?" asked in a lower tone, although her temper was gradually reaching new levels.  
  
"...N-no," Keith's voice managed to produce through trembles.  
  
Karen reached for the light switch mounted into the wall on her right and flipped it on... and gasped to find Keith standing at the door, his face pale and wet, his eyes tired and red, his posture broken and defeated. But what she noticed more than anything else was the red that stained his undershirt and his jeans, stained his hands and arms, stained even his cheeks.  
  
"My God, Keith!" Karen cried and ran toward the man, "Is this blood!? What happened!? Are you all right!?"  
  
Keith looked into Karen's pleading eyes, his own eyes trying desperately to search for a way to tell her without him actually having to verbalize anything. His lips were pressed flat against one another in a brave attempt to stifle a sob.  
  
Karen suddenly realized that everything was not right with this picture. He had no wounds on his body despite blood-soaked clothing and yet he stood here with a look of pain and grief in his eyes as if he had been killed over and over again. "Where's Lucas?" Karen whispered.  
  
Keith could no longer contain his sob and let it out, startling Karen as she watched the man's eyes close tight as tears flowed. He embraced Karen into a gentle hug, his body wracking with sobs as he tried in vain to compose himself. "I-I'm s-sorry, Karen..." Keith whispered, "I really am."  
  
"No," Karen said as she pushed away from Keith, "Y-you didn't answer me," she said, her words suddenly being halted by some unknown force, "T-tell..." she stopped for a moment to regain her composure, turning her head to look down at the floor, her eyes closed, her lips clamped shut. She returned her attention to the man in front of her, "Tell me what h-happened...to my son."  
  
"God..." Keith said as he shook his head, his arms outstretched as if trying to welcome her back into his embrace but she held her ground. His arms dropped helplessly and he groaned, running a hand roughly through his brown hair. "He's dead, Kare," he said finally, "He's dead."  
  
Karen's eyes suddenly opened wide as she began to hyperventilate, her mouth dropping open as she tried desperately to take in air. Her head shaking she began to feel her knees go weak, turning into jelly, until she grabbed hold of the nearby countertop to keep from falling. "Dea...?" she asked in a gasping voice that was disbelieving, almost pleading to him. A tear streamed from her left eye and she quickly wiped it away with her hand. "N-no, no! I-I saw him earlier today! I spoke to him! I gave him those s-sandwiches!! H-he can't possibly..."  
  
Keith quickly came to Karen's side, holding her with his strong, hard hands to make sure she would not collapse. "Honey, I know," Keith said, anguish clearly in his voice as he nodded his head, "I know. But he's gone now."  
  
"No!" Karen screamed angrily, her eyes squinting as they overflowed with tears, "No! No! No!!" Karen struggled to get away from Keith's firm grip on her, "Please don't say that!! It's not true! It's..."  
  
"Karen!" Keith yelled, pleading and anger and sorrow all mixed in his voice, "Karen, please!! He's gone! He died tonight...he..." but Keith could say no more as his hands limply fell from Karen's wrists and went to his face as he sobbed, turning his back on the woman as he leaned against the refrigerator.  
  
Karen's eyes were darting across the room, searching for some answer to all of what was being said. Was it a dream? Was it a nightmare? It had to be something that she could just wake up from and everything would be fine. She looked for a prompt, a person, a thing, ANYTHING that could tell her this world was not real and that she was only imaging this.  
  
But nothing happened.  
  
And Karen suddenly heard a noise escape from somewhere. It was a deep sound, a groan, although it sounded much more painful. Soon, she realized that the sound was coming from her as she felt her lungs gasp which produced the sound again. She covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise. To keep that disgusting sound from being audible again. But it kept coming: sob after sob escaping her body, racking her to the floor as she fell to her knees, her tears rolling down her pale cheeks, her dark hair around her face, covering her expression of sorrow as it matted against her ever dampening cheeks.  
  
"Why!?" she wailed between sobs, "Why!? Why!?"  
  
Keith lifted his head from the refrigerator, seeing Karen on the floor. He managed to walk toward the fallen woman, watching as she cried, falling into long silent sobs before gasping for air to emit another pained cry of anguish, holding her hand against her mouth. Keith fell next to her and embraced her gently once again.  
  
Karen returned the embrace, hugging him tightly as she buried her face into Keith's strong chest, her sobs still wracking her body as she tried desperately to take in air.  
  
"Just let it all out," Keith whispered as he flattened her hair on her head, a strength and solidity in his voice that he thought he would never have at this moment. "You just let it all out," he encouraged soothingly.  
  
They sat on the floor, crying in each other's arms until finally Karen fell into a fitful sleep, exhausted by her emotional roller coaster. Keith then carefully picked her up and carried her off to bed, making sure to tuck her in as best he could before he sat in a chair next to her, staring at her pained expression, watching as tears continued to flow down her cheeks, her sleep talk consisting of her son's name faintly being called again and again with anguish and sorrow.   
  
And he watched her. Watched her fall into that restless sleep until he finally found a way to go to sleep as well.  
  
***   
  
Morning. The sun's light once again shined above the tops of the buildings, illuminating the dew dropped grass with warm rays. The light illuminated the streets, including 4th and Main where so much anguish had occurred only hours earlier. The light washed over the nice houses of Tree Hill, including Karen Roe's home though there was no sign of activity within its walls. The light came to the playground, stretching across the empty basketball court and covering the goal where Lucas Scott practiced diligently only yesterday.  
  
Now, however, that goal was unoccupied. Lucas Scott was not practicing his game nor would he ever do so again. The goal, however, stood erect and waited, patient for the familiar rumble of the young man's truck and the telltale "beat, beat, beat" of a dribbling basketball as Lucas ran up to the goal and started off his morning with a simple finger roll, sliding gracefully into the net.  
  
Instead, the sun passed over the goal and moved on, leaving the goal alone on the playground.  
  
***  
  
"...and so I told him like, 'I would never sleep with you! You're not even rich!" Brooke exclaimed and laughed out loud, her eyes closed as she did.  
  
Peyton scoffed, smiling in spite of herself at her best friend's lame remark, "You're so wrong," Peyton groaned.  
  
"Oh, I'm just joking," Brooke said as she passed a hand through her hair, "Besides, he and I are cool like that. He knows I would sleep with him any time." Brooke smiled lustfully, emitting a disgusted groan from Peyton.  
  
"God! It's too early, Brooke," Peyton said while laughing, "You're such a nymph!" Shaking her head, her blonde locks shook gracefully across her face.  
  
"Oh, like you didn't know," Brooke protested with a bit of melodrama, placing her hand across her forehead, feigning light-headedness.  
  
"So," Peyton began, "Did you hear that siren last night?"  
  
Brooke sighed, still smiling and asked lightly, "What siren?"  
  
"I thought I heard an ambulance siren going off last night after we hung up," Peyton explained looking a bit more serious as she focused on the road ahead, "It was kind of freaky."  
  
"An siren? Freaky?" Brooke asked, shaking her head, "Girl, you're a mess, you know that? And no, I didn't hear anything last night. My music was on."  
  
"Oh," Peyton said. She looked over at Brooke for a moment before returning her gaze to the road. Tree Hill High School was beginning to appear over the horizon.  
  
"What's up, Peyton?" Brooke asked as she looked out at the road ahead as well. She finally turned her head to at her friend, "Why would you ask that? Is it...your mom?"  
  
Peyton sighed, her grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly, causing her knuckles to go white. "Sirens just...they're just not heard around here a lot, you know? I was wondering that maybe something was wrong."  
  
"Well, duh," Brooke replied as she turned her attention to her nails, making sure her new coat of paint was still intact, "Someone was obviously hurt, Peyton. Why else would an ambulance be out at night?"  
  
"You know what I mean. I..." Peyton trailed off, blowing air out of her nose, "You know what? It's nothing. I'm just being paranoid." Peyton took in some air and exhaled with an audible sigh. "Look, we're almost here," Peyton said with dry elation.  
  
"Yeah, isn't it great?" Brooke said with mock excitement and forced a giddy "Valley Girl" laugh.   
  
Peyton chuckled at her friend's utter goofiness and sighed. Still, the feeling of dread that she had been experiencing all morning just wouldn't go away. And soon she would know exactly why.  
  
***  
  
The light rumble of the SUV was silenced as Nathan turned the ignition to the off position and sat back. Looking over to the passenger side he scanned Haley sitting in her seat, looking straight ahead. Her face was expressionless, her mouth slightly gaped as she stared out at the passing kids, her shallow breath the only sound escaping her lips.  
  
Nathan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly.  
  
Haley turned her head to face Nathan's worried expression. "I-I was just thinking about Lucas," she responded.  
  
"What about him?" Nathan said crossly. He did not want to be reminded of his half brother at the moment.  
  
"Nathan...I said some pretty harsh things to him the other day," she said as she turned to better face her boyfriend, "I mean, I agree totally that he was out of line, but I was pretty mean and..."  
  
"No, you weren't," Nathan said stopping her before she went any further, "You said what you felt and that's all there is to it. The kid was being a jerk and you gave him a piece of your mind, simple as that."  
  
"But..." Haley started but she felt Nathan's warm finger press against her lips.  
  
"Hey. If Lucas wants to be an asshole to me that's fine, I can take it. But when he's being an asshole to you, well..." Nathan scoffed, shaking his head, "That's just crossing the line. You know, he's got a lot of nerve thinking you can't make your own damn decisions."  
  
"He's just looking out for me, Nate," Haley replied, "He was only doing what he thought was right."  
  
"And that's the thing: what HE thinks," Nathan retorted, "He thinks his word is gold and everyone else's is shit. That's what I really get tired about with him sometimes, Hales." Nathan shook his head, "But I said I'm going to get along with him. Even if it means I have to keep from beating his ass if he doesn't apologize to you today."  
  
Haley smiled at this comment. Though his chivalry came with crude language it was chivalry nonetheless and made the young woman feel special. "Thank you," she said and leaned in to kiss Nathan lightly across the lips.  
  
When Haley sat back in her chair Nathan was smiling, his frown transforming into raised eyebrows, wide eyes, and a goofy grin. "I should be thanking you right now," he said.  
  
Haley giggled and hit him playfully across the arm. "Let's go, doofus," she joked and unfastened her seatbelt and opened the car door, gathering her backpack from her lap and slinging it over her arms.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Nathan replied and smiled as he pulled the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car to join Haley by her side. They walked together talking, joking around, disregarding anyone else that was around them.   
  
As they stepped into the hallway, Haley was looking around for Lucas, wondering if he was present. She was in the mood for an apology today and she just knew that she was going to get one.   
  
"Anticipating for Luke to give you that apology you deserve?" Nathan asked as he made a chuckle.  
  
"You're right on, bub," Haley said with a smile. Curiously, she could not find the young man's tall frame moving amidst the mass of students making their way to their first period classes. Haley frowned for a moment then figured that he might just be running late again since he was probably out at the playground practicing.  
  
"Ah, forget him," Nathan said, "You'll see him later. Come on, let's get to class."  
  
Haley scanned the area on more time for Lucas before finally nodding and saying slowly, "Okay." Looking up at Nathan she smiled and took his hand in hers. "Let's go."  
  
Nathan smiled and squeezed her hand gently as the couple made their way toward the end of the hall.  
  
"Poor, misguided girl," Brooke sighed as she closed her locker, watching from afar as she saw Haley and Nathan walk toward the end of the hall, "Doesn't she know that that's the wrong Scott brother? She must be on something."  
  
Peyton lifted her head from her locker and watched as the couple turned the corner of the hallway. She smiled slightly at the sight of them but then responded accordingly, "Yeah, I know. Everyone knows Nathan Scott is a dick."  
  
Brooke chuckled then looked around some more. "Hey, I don't see your blue collar man anywhere," she mused, "Wonder where he is?"  
  
"Probably out practicing," Peyton replied as she lifted her head from her locker for good with a grouping of books in her arms. She closed the locker door with her hip. "He said he was making it a habit these days. 'I want to be able to wipe the floor with Nathan'," Peyton imitated Lucas' voice in a poor yet humorous manner. "I swear. The testosterone levels between them are enough to drown a girl in."  
  
"Yeah, I hear 'ya," Brooke replied, "And that's definitely a good thing."  
  
"Oh, shut up!" Peyton exclaimed wearily and playfully shoved Brooke.   
  
Brooke only smiled as she looked at her friend who returned to a more subdued, thoughtful state. "You really care about him, don't you?" she asked suddenly.  
  
"Who? Luke?" Peyton said as she turned to face Brooke again, a curly blonde lock falling over her face, "You know how I feel, Brooke."  
  
"Yeah, but...can you just tell me. For my sake?" Brooke said with more seriousness in her voice than she had all morning.  
  
"Why?" Peyton asked, "You know my feelings. I tell you everything."  
  
"Well then, just humor me, okay?" Brooke said as she looked at Peyton, "I guess I need to know these things...I need to know that I can find love like what you and Luke have...someday."  
  
"Brooke, we're not that serious," Peyton replied, "We've been talking, but..."  
  
"Peyton!" Brooke exclaimed.  
  
"All right! All right! I..." Peyton trailed off still looking at Brooke, "I guess I like him. No...I think I'm kind of sort of..." trailing off again she finally said in one fell swoop, "...falling in love with him."  
  
Brooke gasped, stopped by this turn of events, her eyes wide with surprise, her mouth open in pure joy. "I knew it! I knew it!" Brooke exclaimed, "I had my doubts but I knew you did!"  
  
"What...?" Peyton asked but then she immediately realized that she had been totally fooled. "Oh my God, Brooke!" Peyton exclaimed.  
  
"I knew it! I knew that if I just give you that old spiel you'd spill everything!" Brooke exclaimed.   
  
"You better not go telling everyone about this!" the blonde exclaimed in a low tone, "I'm not even sure if this is real or not."  
  
"Okay, okay," Brooke said, sighing after her initial fit of excitement, "I just had to find out one way or another! You tell me everything that goes on up here," Brooke said as she pointed to Peyton's head, "But you hardly ever tell me what's going on in here," she finished as she laid a hand over Peyton's heart.  
  
Peyton smiled, chuckling at her friend's craftiness. "You're slick, you know that?" Peyton said as the two began to walk to their class together.  
  
"I know," Brooke replied with sass, "I was made that way."  
  
Peyton's laughter echoed as the two girls turned left at the end of the hallway.  
  
***  
  
As students in all classes began to sit down and become quiet as their respective teachers waited at the front of the room, each teacher had some form of knowing looks on their faces. An expression of expectance of something that they knew was bound to happen within the next few moments.  
  
Suddenly, a long tone sounded from the intercom and the deep voice of the principal cleared his throat and began in a solemn voice:  
  
"Good morning, students and teachers. I hope that all of you had a safe journey on your way here to school and I hope that you all are sitting down. What I am about to say may shock many of you who have probably not heard the news."  
  
Haley looked away from Nathan as she turned her ear to hear the intercom, wondering what the principal was going to say. Her smile had faded slightly.  
  
Nathan's smile faded when he saw Haley's disappear, wondering why she was taking the words of such a blowhard like the principal so seriously. But something inside told him to listen as well.  
  
Peyton and Brooke stood outside of their classroom, stopped by the teacher that signaled for them to wait at the door until the principal finished what he had to say. Brooke was fuming because she wanted to sit down; Peyton frowned but it was for different reasons. She wanted to know what the man had to say. Would it be about the siren she heard?   
  
"At about ten thirty yesterday evening, Lucas Scott was shot and later died from shock while he was closing down shop at his uncle's garage."  
  
Students across the school began to murmur words of shock to one another.  
  
"As many of you probably know, Lucas played on this school's varsity basketball team with some of our top players. He had extraordinary talent, not just on the court but also in class where he excelled in academics, especially literature."  
  
"Oh my god," a young girl whispered to another classmate sitting beside her, "...that's so awful..."  
  
"I can only hope that those of you who knew Lucas best will be able to, in time, cope with such a devastating loss. If any of you feel that you need help dealing with this, the guidance counselor, your teachers, coaches, even me... we are all here to help you get through this rough time. Now...I would like to have a moment of silence for Lucas Scott."  
  
Haley's breath was shallow, making short gasps as she looked at the intercom. She turned to face Nathan whose mouth was slightly gaping, his eyes, and his entire face in a confused expression looking back at her. "N-Nathan...?" she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.  
  
"Hales..." Nathan started but he didn't know what to say to her. She looked at him with pleading eyes, looking for some type of answer from him. But he could not give one for he was shocked by the news himself, his mind going blank as he tried to grasp the concept; as he tried, in vain, to pair the name "Lucas" with the word "death". Hell, he could not get past the death without his heart racing.  
  
"Thank you and I hope, under the circumstances, all of you will try to have a good day," the principal said with a sigh and the intercom buzzed off.  
  
Brooke looked over at Peyton whose mouth was shut tight, trying desperately to stifle her sob. Tears flowed freely down the young woman's face as she looked up at the ceiling, shaking her head and then making a slight chuckle.  
  
"I-I can't believe this," Brooke whispered, feeling her own eyes water, "Lucas is...?" she trailed off, "Why?"  
  
Peyton only continued to chuckle lightly as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. She made a light sob in between laughs and placed her hand over her eyes and her other on her hip, bending forward as she tried desperately to stay composed.  
  
"God, Peyton..." Brooke whispered in a quavering voice and embraced her friend, rubbing her back gently.  
  
"Why d-did he do this..." Peyton questioned in a quavering voice, "W-why is he leaving me...why..." but she could speak no more as her eyes shut tight and tears rolled down her cheeks and her loud sobs begin to rack her body, echoing throughout the hallway.  
  
"It's okay," Brooke whispered quietly, "It's gonna be okay." But even Brooke, with all of her optimistic charm, was hard pressed to believe her own words as she silently cried for Lucas as well.  
  
"Oh, God!" Haley cried as she ran out of her classroom and collapsed to the floor beside a wall directly from the doorway, the sobs bringing her down before she could even make it to the bathroom. "Lucas, n-no! No!!"  
  
Nathan ran to her side and kneeled down beside her, taking her into his arms. Placing a hand on her head he tried to be as soft and as gentle as he could, trying desperately to soothe her as he struggled with his own mixed emotions as he listened to his strong-willed girlfriend break down in his arms. He was unable to say a thing and simply closed his eyes as new feelings washed over him; feelings of guilt and grief.  
  
***   
  
In a nice neighborhood was a street that rolled straight into the heart of the area, surrounded by nice houses that lined the sides of the road. With their manicured yards and virtually identical shrub arrangements, the nice houses stood little chance of actually standing out from one another. Inside one of these nice houses was a man that had opened the door and rushed out in a three-piece suit to get his morning paper.  
  
"Hello, Dan!" a woman called from her car as she was about to slide in, "How are you?"  
  
"Fine, Martha!" Dan Scott called as he looked up at the woman, "And you?"  
  
"Oh, I'm good!" the elderly woman called back and got into her car, "See you later!" she said cheerily.  
  
"Okay!" Dan replied with false sincerity. Neighbors were not the man's thing and he made it a point to quickly return to his house from the cold and any more neighbors that decided to say hello.  
  
Reaching the door, he opened it and shut it behind him, sighing as he walked into the kitchen and sat down, sighing as he flopped the paper onto the table. His wife, Deborah, was busy making toast and eggs.  
  
"Oh, you're cooking for me?" Dan asked as he walked over and wrapped his wife in his arms from behind, rocking her back and forth slowly.  
  
Deb Scott laughed, smiling while she responded, "Cooking? Yes. For me? Yes."  
  
Dan scoffed and gave the woman a kiss on the cheek. "Very funny," he said sarcastically as he walked over to a cabinet and opened it to retrieve a black mug that read "Best. Salesman. Period." He walked over to the coffee maker and poured himself a mug full of the black liquid and stole a muffing from the basket that he knew Deb had made for Karen's diner.  
  
"Hey!" Deb exclaimed, "Those are for Karen's customers, not greedy men like you!"  
  
"Eh, she nor they will miss it," Dan said as he took a bite of the muffin. "Mm! Blueberry, my favorite! You sure you didn't make these for me?"  
  
"Positive," Deb replied as she moved away from the skillet with a fork in one hand and a plate of scrambled eggs and two slices of toasted bread on the blue plate. Sitting down at the table, she sighed as she poured a generous amount of pepper on the eggs. "Don't you have that client that you need to speak to today?" Deb asked as she reached for the newspaper.  
  
"Uh, yeah," Dan replied as he took a sip from his coffee mug, "It seems Patterson wants a Viper." Dan scoffed at the thought.  
  
"What?" Deb said as she slowly unfolded the paper, looking up at her husband.  
  
"Honey, this is Patterson we're talking about here. He has at least five years worth of debt, he only earns 20K a year, and he couldn't be any older for that car," Dan said with almost a smile on his face, "The man could not possibly be any more hopeless if he tried."  
  
"Oh, really?" Deb stated, "And I suppose that covered Mustang you have sitting in that garage doesn't make you look like you're in mid-life crisis?" Deb smiled as she looked down at the paper  
  
"You're just full of jokes, this morning, huh?" Dan mused but then stated more seriously, "I can afford things like that. Patterson can't." Taking another bite of muffin he remarked, "It's pathetic really."  
  
"Dan..." Deb began shaking her head but trailed off as she looked at the newspaper with more clarity. Dropping her fork, which made a sudden clang onto the plate, she lifted the paper, breathing a bit faster than before. "O-oh my God!" Deb said, her voice shaking as she placed a hand over her mouth, shaking her head.  
  
Dan noticed that something was wrong the moment his wife abruptly stopped talking. "What is it?" Dan asked looking her way with genuine concern in his eyes.  
  
"I-it's Lucas," Deb said as she looked up at her husband, her eyes portraying disbelief, "He was shot and killed last night."  
  
Something inside Dan made a beat against his chest as he stared at Deb for a moment. His lips parted slightly upon hearing the news and then his eyes trailed to the table as he set his mug down, surrounding it with both hands. Looking back up, he shook his head and his mouth closed again and almost formed into a sneer. "So what did he do?" Dan asked coarsely.  
  
"What?" Deb asked as she looked at her husband, wondering why he would ask such a thing, "W-what do you mean, 'What did he do'?" she asked.   
  
"Well, if he was shot and killed then he must have been doing something wrong, that's all I'm saying," Dan said as he took another bite from the muffin, turning his eyes away from his wife's, "God only knows what that kid was really doing with his life."  
  
Deb stared at Dan in disbelief, her mouth more ajar at her husband's callousness toward the situation than when she read of Lucas' death. Suddenly, a fit of rage overcame her and she felt her temper overflow. "Like you ever knew what he did!" she yelled as she stood up from her seat, slamming her small hands forcefully against the table, which caused the plate, fork, and the mug to rattle and the salt and pepper shakers to topple over. "Like you even cared! My God, Dan!"  
  
Dan looked up at his wife's sudden reaction. "What the hell is your problem, Deborah?" he asked with a confused expression.  
  
"Do you want to know what my problem is, Dan? Huh!?" Deb yelled and picked up the paper and threw it in his face. "My problem is that my callous, asshole of a husband doesn't even give a damn about the death of his own son! That's what my problem is!"  
  
"Deb..." Dan started but was instantly cut off by Deb's words.  
  
"No! Don't you dare say a word!" Deb yelled at the man who was instantly silenced by her tone, "How DARE you think so lowly of Lucas. If anything, you should feel bad for yourself because you never got the chance to know your own son! I was able to and we were not even related!"  
  
"I have a son, God dammit!" Dan yelled back, standing up to look down at his wife, "His name is Nathan! He's my pride and joy and I'd do anything for him!"  
  
"Oh, is that so?" Deb said, "And what about Lucas!?"  
  
"I feel bad for Karen! But what, do you want me to cry? Scream!? Be angry for something that I never had!?" Dan yelled, "No! I'm not gonna dwell on someone that I didn't even know! Someone that wasn't even my son!"  
  
Deb made a light, incredulous chuckle at her husband and immediately slapped the man across the cheek with all of the force that her small arm would allow. "You son of a bitch..." Deb spat, still staring at the man.  
  
Dan held his hand on his cheek and turned his head to face his wife once again.  
  
"You sad, pathetic son of a bitch," she said shaking her head, a tear rolling down her eye as she looked at the man's shocked face. And with that, she pushed the chair away from behind her and walked out of the kitchen and into the den to grab her coat off the chair.  
  
"Where are you going?" Dan called with slight anger in his voice.  
  
"Over to Karen's," she said as she shucked on her coat and grabbed her keys off the kitchen counter, "She needs to be with someone that actually cares." Deb gave a long, spiteful look at her husband before she turned and left out of the kitchen again, the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut marking her exit.  
  
"Dammit!!" Dan yelled as he slammed his fists on the table. His head down, he looked at the newspaper on the floor, the boldfaced, streaming headline staring back up at him, reading: "Local boy gunned down in cold blood."   
  
Dan sighed, his face softening as he noticed the large picture of Lucas covering most of the page, the young man smiling brightly, happily.  
  
Dan closed his eyes and walked away from the table and out of the kitchen and stood at the window of his living room, watching as Deb sped away in her car, down the long stretch of road and past all of the nice houses. 


	3. Regret

He had watched her most of the night, fading into a fitful sleep every few minutes only to jerk awake from some unknown force pulling at his soul. In that moment when he awoke, Keith was unable to remember why he was in Karen's room, sitting close beside her as if he was guarding her. It was those moments that he cherished just before his memory returned to him, instant and heavy as if a slab of concrete had landed on his entire frame, crushing him under its weight.   
  
It was after such a moment that Keith sniffled, wiping his nose free of mucus with the back of his sleeve from crying so much, desperately trying to be strong. But as he pushed away from the chair he sat in, he felt odd. His neck and shoulders ached, his head spinning. Was it a headache? How long had he slept? Was he sick from fatigue?   
  
Keith sighed and decided to take it slowly as he lifted himself from the chair, standing slightly hunched over Karen's bed, looking down at the woman whose face was wet and red from crying in her sleep. Her face, although still contorted into a painful expression, seemed softer than earlier that morning as if the night's sleep had swept some of the pain away.   
  
The man looked down at her for a prolonged moment then opted to retire to the restroom to relieve himself. Taking slow, steady steps toward the door leading to the hallway, Keith quietly slipped out of Karen's room and continued to make his way quietly toward the white and peach bathroom. The warm rays of the sun washed over Keith's face as he stepped into the softly lit bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he walked over to the toilet and lifted the seat then proceeded to unzip his zipper.   
  
When he finished, he flushed the toilet and walked toward the sink and stared at his image in the mirror below the light fixture. Although he had attempted to clean himself earlier, he could still point out clear traces of Lucas' blood smeared faintly across his left cheek where he had embraced his nephew. Keith immediately turned on the water and, reaching for a nearby washcloth, prepared to wipe the blood away. As he drowned the navy blue fabric in the steaming hot water, Keith looked at himself closer in the mirror; a man with baggy circles under his eyes, unruly stubble, and a perpetual grief-ridden expression stared grimly back at him. Keith looked down and squeezed the washcloth free of excess water and turned the running water off. Taking the washcloth to his cheek, Keith scrubbed viciously with the blue fabric, desperately trying to rid himself of the stain on his person. He didn't want Karen to have to see it anymore. He didn't want to see it anymore.  
  
"What are you doing?" a light voice asked from the doorway, startling Keith. He turned with the hot cloth still pressed to his face and saw Karen standing in the doorway. She had pushed the slightly ajar door all the way open to expose Keith to the hallway and to her sight. Her face was red and wet with strands of her dark brown hair strewn across her forehead.   
  
Keith looked at her for a while and finally replied, "I-I was washing my face...I hope that's all right."  
  
Karen looked at Keith for a while and finally nodded, her eyelids fluttering as she did. "Of course, yeah," she said as she put a hand over her face and groaned, "God, how could I be so rude? I just...barge in here."  
  
"No, sweetie, no," Keith said as he dropped the washcloth on the sink and walked to Karen, taking her in his arms, "I don't care. What I want to know is how are you? God, what am I saying...?" Keith shook his head, "I'm such an ass."  
  
"No, no," Karen whispered as she looked away from Keith for a moment, "No, you're not. I..." but Karen simply trailed off. Looking up at Keith once again she said, "It's all right."  
  
Keith looked back at Karen, noticing that even though her voice held some semblance of feeling, her face was blank, looking back at him with blank eyes as if someone had stolen her soul. Keith pushed the strands of hair away from her face and let his hand trail down her cheek gently.  
  
"I...I thought you were Lucas," Karen said abruptly still looking into Keith's eyes, "I thought that..."  
  
"It's okay," Keith said and hugged the small woman, "I'm sorry you have to go through this."  
  
"No, it's just that...it's just that he used to wake up at around this time every morning, you know?" Karen continued grasping tightly to Keith, "And I thought that maybe I could see him again."  
  
Keith closed his eyes, finding it difficult to hold back his tears for Karen's sake. "I'm sorry," he repeated.  
  
"Stop it!" Karen cried, "Stop saying you're sorry! I'm sorry! I shouldn't be doing this. I should be..." Karen sobbed and dug her face into Keith's shoulder, "God! Why can't I stop crying!?" Karen screamed.   
  
Keith only embraced the woman tighter, stroking her head gently.  
  
As this was happening, the soft ring of the doorbell sounded in their ears.  
  
Keith opened his eyes just as they were beginning to tear up and he lifted his head from Karen's. "Let me get that," Keith said softly to Karen, "Whoever it is, I'll tell them to go away, all right?"  
  
Karen lifted her head from Keith's shoulder and looked at him with teary eyes. She nodded wearily.   
  
"Go back to bed," Keith continued, "I'll bring you something to eat."  
  
"I'm not hungry," Karen replied softly through light sniffles, "But I'll go back to bed." And Karen turned her back on Keith and slowly made her way to her bedroom, shutting the door slightly. Keith watched as she put her hands over her face and stood over her bed, sobbing quietly and he put a fist over his mouth to stifle his own sobs.   
  
The ring of the doorbell snapped him into action and he briskly walked to the door. Approaching the door, he nearly ripped the door off the hinges and barked, "What!?" His features, angered, pained, and twisted softened when he noticed his sister-in-law standing at the door. She had taken a step back out of fright but her face was clearly that of a woman in anguish.  
  
"Deb," Keith said softly, "God, I'm sorry..." but he was silenced when Deb quickly walked toward him and embraced him as best she could.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Keith," Deb whispered quietly, "God, I'm so sorry."  
  
Keith's hands had been at his sides when Deb first embraced him but they finally managed to embrace the woman back. His eyes reverted from shock to a sullen state as he realized why she was here.  
  
"Thank you," was all he managed to say.  
  
***  
  
When her eyes opened she had, for some unknown reason, felt at ease. For some reason, all cares and worries seemed lifted from her form as she looked up at the ceiling, harshly lit with the fluorescent lighting mounted in the center of the white surface. Her eyes looked around the room and soon she came to realize that she was in the nurse's office. But what caught her eye was the young man sitting in the chair across from her, his face ever bright and cheerful, his toothy grin gleaming even in the painful light of the room.  
  
It was him...  
  
"Lucas?" she whispered.  
  
Nathan looked up from the floor to his girlfriend who had fallen unconscious just shortly after the news of Lucas' death. He did not know what to do. One moment she was crying profusely in his arms and the next she made a gasp and then fainted. For a split second, Nathan feared that Haley had died right there in his arms, prompting him to nearly scream her name in the heat of the moment in an attempt to rouse her. Fortunately, the teacher from their class reassured him and instructed him to bring her to the nurse's office.  
  
So he did, carrying her in his strong arms as he raced to the nurse's office. Kicking the door open, Nathan cried in a worried voice, "Sh-she fainted. I-I don't know what to do! Please, help her!"  
  
The rotund nurse looked at Nathan and nodded. "Place her here," she said, pointing to a cushioned sofa, "She will be awake sooner or later. Just go back to class and..."  
  
"No, I'm staying with her," Nathan said.  
  
Of course, the nurse could have forced him out of her office, but considering that she knew of the circumstances she gave the young man a bit of leeway, nodded, and left him to watch over the young woman, eventually bringing a chair for him to sit on.   
  
"Haley?" Nathan said as he rushed to her side, "Haley, it's me. It's Nathan."  
  
Haley's eyes opened and quickly looked over at the source of the voice. "N-Nathan? Wh-where's Lucas?"  
  
Nathan looked at Haley for a long time, his face filled with agony for his girlfriend. "Hales...don't you remember?"  
  
Haley sat up, staring at Nathan a bit longer before finally realizing what meant and she sighed, her eyes trailing away from Nathan's to the floor. "But I saw him...it was so real," she whispered.  
  
Nathan looked at Haley, taking her hand in his. He did not know what to say except, "I'm sorry."  
  
Haley still continued to look down at the floor but replied, "I saw him. He was sitting right where you were, smiling like...everything was going to be okay." Haley looked up at Nathan, her eyes noticeably red and watery and asked, "...but everything's not okay, is it? He's really gone, isn't he?"  
  
Nathan looked directly into Haley's eyes. He did not know the answer to her question. Hell, he didn't know the answer to any of the questions that were swimming in his head: why did Lucas have to die? Why does Haley have to suffer? Why does he feel so...guilty?  
  
"Nathan?" Haley whispered.  
  
Nathan grasped Haley's hand tighter and said, "I don't know, Haley. But I'm sure as hell gonna find out," and with that, Nathan let go of Haley's hand, stood up and head for the door, "I don't know when I'll be back," Nathan said to Haley looking at the door, "But promise me you'll take care of yourself."  
  
"Nathan, where are you going?" Haley asked, "I want to come with you."  
  
"No, Hales," Nathan said firmly, "This is something I've gotta do on my own...okay?"  
  
"Nathan, please..." Haley sobbed but was answered by Nathan opening the door and shutting it quietly behind him. Putting a hand over her face she sobbed quietly, her heart aching and her head spinning over the recent events.  
  
Nathan stood outside of the door, leaning against the surface with his eyes closed. Opening them once again and with a determined expression, he made his way toward the school's exit and toward his car.   
  
***  
  
"Brooke, I'm fine, okay?" Peyton yelled as she pushed past her friend and made her way into the girls' lavatory, "I-I don't need you holding my hand anymore."  
  
"I'm just doing what I think is best, Peyton," Brooke protested heatedly, "You just found out that possibly the greatest love of your life is dead. Dead, Peyton! Even I realize how deep that is and he was my ex!"  
  
"Well good for you, Brooke!" Peyton cried, "Congratulations! You got to him first! How was he? Was he everything you ever imagined or more? I know you two didn't have a lot in common but at least you dated!"  
  
"Peyton..." Brooke started.  
  
"No! NO!" Peyton yelled, cutting Brooke off, "You don't get to speak now! Do you realize how much time I wasted with Lucas? All of the things that I said to him yesterday, accusing him! And all he wanted to do was love me!" Peyton laughed, a tear streaming down her face, "LOVE ME! That's all he ever wanted from me!"  
  
Brooke was silent, looking down at the floor.  
  
"I blame myself for a lot of things that went down between me and Lucas," Peyton continued, "But I also...blame you, Brooke."  
  
Brooke instantly looked up at her best friend. "Peyton, you can't be serious," she protested.  
  
"I am," Peyton said, wiping tears from her cheeks, "I am serious. If you hadn't toyed with him for so long with your petty insecurities and your stupid façade, trying to make him think you were interested in what he loved about this life then maybe...maybe he and I could have actually had a chance."  
  
"You shut your mouth," Brooke fumed, "You were the one that kissed him and started everything! You were the one that helped wrecked things! I'm not saying that Lucas wasn't at fault either but..."  
  
"But he's dead now," Peyton coldly stating, cutting Brooke off, "Lucas is dead and there is no one to blame but ourselves for the way we left things. But I...blame...you," Peyton said, emphasizing her statement pointing her finger at Brooke, "I blame you for ever getting involved with Lucas. For ever making me...hold back my feelings for him so you, of all people, could shack up with yet another guy."  
  
"Shut up," Brooke whispered.  
  
"So you could find 'love' in probably the best guy in this entire town and then dump him because you're to insecure and too selfish to ever consider someone else's feelings over your own!" Peyton screamed, "I blame you, you bitch! You slutty, selfish bitch!!"  
  
Brooke stared at Peyton who, after her rant, fell to the floor, sobbing deeply. As she looked down at her friend, her eyes closed and she turned and walked away, leaving Peyton on the floor to grieve alone.  
  
***  
  
"I saw the article on the newspaper," Deb said quietly to Keith as he let her in, "I-I just couldn't believe it." Deb walked to sofa and pulled off her coat, laying it gently across the arm of the chair. She looked around for a moment, trying to see if Karen was around then turned to face Keith.  
  
Keith shut the door quietly and sighed. "I haven't seen it yet," Keith replied as he leaned against the door, "I don't think I want to, either." The man looked down at the floor, his head heavy and aching. He was still exhausted.  
  
"God," Deb said, "I shouldn't have come here. I have no business being here at all. Look at you, you're exhausted." Deb began to gather her coat, "I'll come back another day."  
  
"Deb," Keith said, "If I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have let you in so..." Keith trailed off as he pushed himself away from the door and took the blond woman's coat, "Stay, all right?"  
  
Deb looked up into Keith's tired eyes, her eyes watering just by seeing her brother-in-law's pain seep through so readily. Never before had she seen him so distraught. He was always a pillar of strength in her eyes, despite his past problems and that image had never waned once. Yet now...  
  
"Can I get you something?" Deb asked, "Coffee, tea, some food? You and Karen need to eat."  
  
"I'm all right," Keith assured his sister-in-law, "Karen is who I'm worried about right now. She needs someone with her. Someone strong and..."  
  
"She's got you," Deb said, "You're here to support her and make sure she's all right, Keith whether you realize that or not. That's all she really needs right now."  
  
"But, Deb..." but Keith was quieted with a shake of Deb's head.  
  
"I know that you and she have had some past problems, Keith," Deb replied, "But you've got to understand that none of that matters to her right now. You should be here right now serving as her anchor. I can help you but you've got to be the one to help her the most, okay?"  
  
"It's just," Keith began and sighed deeply in order to compose himself, "I'm afraid she'll blame me like with the car accident. God, I don't know if I can take that again."  
  
"Keith, if she does then so be it," Deb said taking hold of the man's arms, "She just lost her son. I wouldn't care if the woman blamed me as long as she had something to hold on to." Deb looked into Keith's eyes, "No parent is ever supposed to outlive their child. And it's painful to..." Deb sighed, her voice shaking.  
  
"I'm sorry," Keith replied quietly, "I know what you're saying."  
  
"Good," Deb replied and wiped away her tears, "Because now is not the time to be worrying about who she'll point fingers at. Lucas was her life and without him...I just don't know."  
  
Keith nodded and turned away but then something hit him. "Dan! Does Dan...?"  
  
Deb looked darkly at Keith and let go of his arms. "Of course he does," Deb said as she turned away from Keith.  
  
"How is he?" Keith asked watching as Deb walked further away from him, "H-how did he take it?"  
  
"Keith, no offense," Deb began, "But if Dan was truly concerned about Lucas don't you think he would be here with me now?"  
  
Keith sensed the pain in Deb's voice underneath the anger and he even felt the anger rise inside of himself as well.   
  
"You know," Deb continued, "I always thought that even though Dan treated Lucas as if he never existed, somewhere deep inside that man truly cared about him. He showed me that when Lucas was involved in that car accident and how he carried him to the hospital. But when we found out well...he was just so callous to the fact that his son was dead. His SON, Keith!"  
  
Keith was silent, shaking his head at the fact that his brother could act so heartless.   
  
"And even if this is some stupid façade," Deb continued, "Why doesn't he at least have the balls to admit to me or to anyone, for that matter, that he truly loved Lucas? That he truly loved his..."  
  
"His son?" a voice said from the back of the living room and both Deb and Keith turned to find Karen standing in a doorway leading to the hall. "Lucas was not Dan Scott's son. As far as I'm concerned, Keith proved to be a better father than Dan would ever hope to be."  
  
"Karen, honey, go back to bed, please," Keith said.  
  
"No, this has to be said," Karen said as she walked closer to the two people, "Because I want the both of you to hear me out." Karen faced Deb with a hardened face and said, "I appreciate everything you've done for both me and Lucas, Deborah, but I want you to get one fact straight: Dan was never Lucas' father. He meant nothing to him and he means nothing to me!"  
  
"Karen..." Deb started.  
  
"Please, just listen," Karen said, "Because I want you to know that Dan...he was never a part of Lucas' life. All he did was sit by and watched as we struggled along, never doing anything to help. And you, of all people, a woman not even related to my son, helped us. Now he's dead."  
  
Keith and Deb were silent as they watched Karen struggle to maintain her composure.  
  
"My son is dead and Dan does nothing! Big surprise!" Karen yells with a twisted smile of grief on her face, "So when you go back to your husband I want you to tell him to stay the hell away from my son. Promise me."  
  
"Karen," Keith said.  
  
"Please, Keith! This doesn't involve you!" Karen replied, "This is between two mothers."  
  
Keith looked at Karen and sighed, walking behind her and toward the doorway, stopping just short of it.  
  
"Karen..." Deb said, "I-I don't know if I can tell Dan to not see Lucas. It's not my place to..."  
  
"Oh, yes it is, Deb," Karen said as she nodded her head, "It most definitely is, because you have been a positive influence in Lucas' life just like Keith." Karen was silent for a moment and then smiled. "D-do you realize that he actually emailed me while I was in Paris and told me that you gave great advice and that...you were almost like a surrogate mom?"  
  
Deb gasped at this statement and shook her head. "I-I never knew that."  
  
"Yep, he said that. And even though I was kind of upset at first it made me realize that...if Lucas ever lost me, he would be in good hands with you by his side." Karen smiled at Deb. "I felt comfort in that fact. That my son would at least have two people on this world that loved him if I were ever to die."  
  
A tear streamed down Deb's face and she smiled at Karen. "Thank you for telling me that," she said quietly, "It means the world to me to hear something like that."  
  
"Don't think I would ask just anyone this, Deborah," Karen said still smiling at her, "If I could do it myself I would but...I just don't have the strength to do anything but grieve. So please, PLEASE promise me that you will tell Dan what I said. It's all I ask of him and you. Please."  
  
Deb looked at Karen and finally relented, nodding slowly. "Yes, I promise. I'll tell him."  
  
Karen closed her eyes and nodded, whispering, "Thank you," and then embracing the woman in front of her.  
  
Keith sighed, realizing that Deb made a promise she knew she could not keep. And as he looked on at the two women, Deb's eyes opened to stare at Dan who only looked back and nodded his head, knowing that, ultimately, the woman had no choice.  
  
***  
  
What am I doing, he thought as he looked at the hospital from behind the wheel of his SUV. He truly did not understand why he had left school, left Haley, and had driven several miles to the Tree Hill Hospital. But there he was, sitting there, his keys in hand as he stared blankly at the hospital. What did he hope to do? To see? Somewhere deep within he felt that this was all some bad dream that he was going to wake up from. So, he decided he would just get out of his car and follow along like he always did in his dreams.  
  
The automatic doors opened to Nathan as he walked calmly into the brightly lit lobby of the hospital. He looked around for a moment, his eyes scanning his surroundings. He watched as doctors and nurses made their way casually throughout the lobby, boarding and leaving elevators, speaking with one another over case files and coffee. He looked on as a group of doctors chatted, one of them making a comment that sent the entire group into a fit of quite chuckling.  
  
"May I help you, sir?" a quiet female voice asked.  
  
Nathan looked to his left and noticed a middle-aged blond woman dressed in green scrubs and holding a bundle of files was smiling at him warmly. Her expression changed when she noticed that the young man was seemingly in a daze. "Hon? Are you all right?"  
  
Nathan finally seemed to snap out of his daze and nodded slowly. "I-I'm here to see Lucas Scott," Nathan said suddenly.  
  
"I'm sorry, hon, but I don't handle visitations. If you'd like, I can direct you to..."  
  
"H-he's not alive," Nathan said suddenly, "H-he passed away." Nathan was quiet as the nurse looked at him.  
  
"Oh, I apologize, I had no idea," the nurse said with sincere remorse, "Are you here to...take care of final arrangements?"  
  
Nathan looked at the woman and just nodded.   
  
"All right, I think I can help you, hon," the woman replied and quickly ran toward another nurse that was writing inside of a file. She chatted the woman up for a moment then the blond woman returned with a single file in her hands, studying it as she walked. "Lucas Scott...oh my, God he was that poor boy that was killed last night, wasn't he? I'm so sorry," the nurse said.  
  
Nathan looked at the woman looking at the file. "Can I see him?" Nathan asked.  
  
"I'm sorry hon, but he was a minor. Unless you're a legal guardian you can't see him," the woman responded.  
  
"He's my BROTHER!" Nathan replied in an outburst that shocked even him.  
  
Multiple people stopped what they were doing and stared at the young man that had suddenly yelled at the nurse.  
  
"J-just tell me where he is, please," Nathan pleaded, his eyes getting hot, "Please, please!"  
  
"Hon, he's in the morgue but..."  
  
"And where's the morgue?" Nathan asked cutting her off.  
  
The nurse sighed and shook her head, "I can't tell you that, young man."  
  
"Please, lady," Nathan said, "I have to know. I have to see him. Please?"  
  
The nurse looked at Nathan, sighed again and said quietly, "Head straight to the back. When you see double doors in the next hall, go through those, down the stairs, and to the room at the end of that hall past the elevator. Someone should already be there...I'll give you a head start before I call someone."  
  
"Thank you," Nathan said and began to walk quickly past the nurses and doctors, following the simple instructions that the nurse had given him: to the back of the lobby and into the green colored hall. He looked feverishly for the double doors until he found them and pushed them away. Almost running down the stairs, he ran until he could see the double doors of the dimly lit, white corridor, the paint scuffed off of the doors from the continued collision with hospital stretchers. Passing the elevator, he stopped.  
  
"What am I doing...?" he whispered quietly.   
  
Staring at the doors, he knew that what he might see could change him forever. He knew that, behind those doors, Lucas might be lying there on a table, cut open, exposed for all to see, dead. He knew that he might see his brother in a way that he would have never imagined.  
  
Or maybe not.  
  
Maybe Lucas was simply gone. Whisked away from this earth like so many of this world's good things, maybe he simply disappeared along with them. Without a word or trace, maybe Lucas just left this world like a shadow in the light, leaving behind those that would grieve for his loss.  
  
But maybes and probabilities were not going to answer anything, and Nathan finally made a choice, walking toward the double doors and pushing them away.  
  
There was a man standing in the back of the room, apparently preparing himself for a new task when he noticed the young man walking toward him. "May I help you, sir? People aren't normally supposed to be in morgue."  
  
"I know that and I'm sorry but I'm here for a reason," Nathan said outright, "I need to see Lucas Scott."  
  
The man was noticeably stirred by this request and responded, "I'm sorry, sir, but I highly suggest you wait until the ceremony. He hardly looks remotely decent and..."  
  
"Do you think I give a damn about that?" Nathan yelled, "No! I want to see him! I want to see my brother! Please!"  
  
The mortician looked at the young man and sighed, walking to what looked like massive drawers and grabbed a handle on the fifth row, fourth column. "Sir, are you sure you..."  
  
"Yes, dammit!" Nathan cried.  
  
The mortician shook his head and literally yanked the cooler open in frustration. Inside was a black body bag, noticeably chilled from the frigid temperatures inside the cooler. The mortician walked over to the left side of the bag and placed his gloved hand over the zipper. "God, help me," the man muttered and he unzipped the bag slowly.  
  
"Oh, God. Lucas..." Nathan whispered as he turned away for a moment but then forced himself to face the sight once again, "Oh, man..." The young man did not know what he expected, but when he saw Lucas' pale, lifeless face staring back at him, Nathan realized that there was nothing he could ever do to prepare himself for what he had just seen. He seemed to go numb with fear as he felt the warmth drain from his face. He felt light-headed, unable to stand. He wanted to lean on something but when he realized the closest thing was his brother's resting place, he yelped in fright, backing away from the body.  
  
"Close that up now, Harmon!" a voice yelled from the entrance of the mortuary.   
  
The mortician cursed quietly and zipped the body bag back up and pushed the drawer back into place. "He asked to see his brother and..."  
  
"And you happily obliged, right?" a young, chocolate-skinned female doctor cried, "What the hell were you thinking!? And you!" the woman turned on Nathan, "Who the hell do you think you are? First you cause a commotion in the lobby and hassle one of my nurses and then you barge into the morgue! I have half of mind to..."  
  
"Lay off, okay?" Nathan protested wearily, "I'm sorry, I...I just wanted to see my brother."  
  
"Well are you happy now?" the doctor asked heatedly, "You know, there's a reason we don't allow many people to see their loved ones before a funeral. Just look at you! Even I know a pale white boy when I see one! You look like you've just been stabbed in the heart! My God..." the woman shook her head and grabbed Nathan's arm.  
  
"Let go of me," Nathan said and ripped his arm away from her.  
  
"Fine, but I want you out of this hospital," the doctor said, "I don't care who you are, you're already causing too much drama in a place that has enough of it. Leave, now!"  
  
Nathan looked at the doctor and then nodded and made his way past her and out of the morgue. He walked through the halls and through the lobby, out of the hospital, and into the parking lot of the hospital. He nearly staggered to his car and eventually fell at the driver's side, trembling as he tried desperately to hold in everything that he was feeling.   
  
But he finally broke and Nathan, once a young man that allowed nothing to hurt him, curled up against the door of his vehicle and sobbed quietly, burying his head in shame as his tears wet the sleeves of his pullover.   
  
Why am I crying, Nathan asked himself in thought. Is it because I saw him like that or is it because I finally know...he's really gone?  
  
***  
  
The day had come and gone with people slightly on edge after hearing the news that a killer was on the streets, slaughtering innocent young people such as Lucas Scott. During this day, not as many people walked the streets of Tree Hill. Not as many people went window-shopping or took leisurely walks through the park. Not as many people wanted their children outside for fear that someone would snatch them or worse, shoot them in cold-blood.   
  
Although perfectly natural for people to feel so fearful in such stressful times, their fears would no longer be needed. It seems that Ely, after committing his deed, drove far north in an attempt to escape the people that were chasing him. He drove so far and for so long that, by daybreak, he found himself in another county, surrounded by different people.  
  
And when he sobered up, he realized exactly what he had done. When he sobered up, not only did the pain of a major hangover attack his head, but also did the pangs of guilt become a plague upon his heart. He panicked first, then found himself crying, then again panicked for a long time, tears drying upon his face until he saw the gun. If only a bullet were inside, he thought. He could end it all right now. No one would have to know what he did. He would only have to suffer through the fear of inviting death upon himself but...it was better than rotting away in prison, right? And he was going to die anyway, seeing as how he had HIV. If only there was a bullet.  
  
And then Ely had a moment of peace where he realized that everything was going to be okay. He knew that, somehow, someway, everything would turn out all right. He didn't kill that boy. Hell, as far as he could tell, the Scott boy only suffered a flesh wound. He would make it out alive. And as long as the boy lived, what was the worst that could happen? Jail? Right now, any roof over his head was better than how he was living.  
  
So Ely made his decision. He would go to the police and tell them everything: tell them that he was the one that shot the Scott boy with a gun that he stole from a house in Tree Hill several years ago. He expected rough treatment but not too bad because that boy had to have made it out alive.  
  
As he drove up to the Macon County Police Department, Ely sat at the wheel, contemplating what he was about to do. Am I sure, he thought to himself and then nodded positively moments afterward. After all, it was the right thing to do.   
  
Calmly walking toward the building, Ely opened the door and found himself inside the department. He walked slowly toward the front desk and saw as a tall man with a red mustache was looking down at some papers. He finally looked up at Ely.  
  
"You here to make a report?" the man asked gruffly.  
  
"No, sir," Ely said, "I'm here to make a confession."  
  
The red-mustachioed man's features never faltered as he looked at this older man looking up at him. "A confession, huh?" the man said as he reached for a pad of paper and a pencil, "Well, go ahead. Tell me how you smoked too much and drank too much and now you need a place to stay. I'll have someone get you to a cell in a moment."  
  
"No, I..." Ely said, faltering for a moment, "I want to confess to the shooting of a young man in Tree Hill."  
  
The mustachioed man instantly looked up from his note taking, his eyes wide with shock.   
  
"Last night at roughly 10 or so, I shot a young man by the name of Scott. Lu..."  
  
"Lucas Scott?" the mustachioed man asked, finishing Ely's sentence.  
  
"Yeah. Have they put out some sort of APB on me?," Ely asked with pure ignorance, "I'm sorry that I did it. That boy's a good boy. I was just drunk and he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. I swear that if..."  
  
"That boy is dead, sir," the man said sternly, "He died from shock and blood loss due to the gunshot wound that YOU inflicted!"  
  
Ely was instantly silenced by the officer's remark, staring up at the man. "N-no, no that can't be. I just shot him in the side! It was a flesh wound! It..."  
  
"A flesh wound?" the mustachioed man repeated, "Well, it must've been a helluva flesh wound, seeing as how it punctured his kidneys."  
  
"No..." Ely said. He noticed that the mustachioed man was signaling for someone and Ely instantly knew who as two brawny officers walked behind him. "I-I didn't mean it!"  
  
"Well, sir, you just saved us the trouble of coming out to find your scrawny ass! Get this piece of shit out of my sight!" the mustachioed man said, his eyes glaring once more at Ely before he was taken away by the officers.  
  
"No, please! No!" Ely pleaded as he struggled against the officers' strength, but to no avail. "I-I didn't know! I didn't know he died!"  
  
"And if you had known," one of the officers growled quietly, "Would you have come forward?"  
  
Ely stopped struggling as he looked up at the man that asked him the question. He was a man of Latino descent, his black hair slicked back, his sharp, dark eyes piercing through his own. Ely shuddered under this massive man's glare.  
  
"Didn't think so," the same man said and continued to drag Ely off to the back where the man would spend the rest of the day in a cell until he would be transferred back to Tree Hill. And Ely Donalsen, even with his strict military training still intact, could only fall into a corner of the cell where he wept the rest of the day away amidst the taunts of the inmates.  
  
***  
  
As with every day, evening eventually came to the small town of Tree Hill, except something was notably different about the town. The town that had wound down the days in many nights past had a somber air about it this evening. The most noticeable sign of this difference could be found at Keith's garage where there was no one in sight. Always a place of lively conversations and boisterous men bragging about their cars, the garage was dead in the night, save for the yellow tape reading "CRIME SCENE DO NOT PASS" flapping lightly in the wind.   
  
Another place that lacked its normal flood of people was Karen's Café, its darkened windows a clear sign that something was amiss in this town.  
  
Many people followed their normal routines by closing shop for the evening, but normal routines seemed sluggish as people constantly looked at one another knowingly. Those that were nearby would look over at the garage and shake their heads. Others would drive past the garage, stop, and then drive on. Still, others would simply walk right behind the wind swept yellow tape, say a prayer, and leave.  
  
One such person happened to do just that as she approached the garage. But she went beyond the tape and stepped over it, noticing a dim light inside the garage. Walking calmly toward the door, she pushed it open.  
  
Keith was sitting in a chair overlooking the site where his nephew had taken his final breaths. A green beer bottle in hand, Keith sniffled and sighed, taking the bottle to his lips and allowing a rush of the burning liquid to enter his mouth and run down his esophagus. When he heard the door creak open, he immediately jumped from the chair.  
  
"Mr. Scott, it's okay! It's me, Haley!" Haley said quickly. She recognized how on edge the man was and realized it may have been a bad idea for her to even come. "I'm sorry, I'll..."  
  
"No, Haley, come back," Keith said, his voice slurred, "I need some company. Please stay with me."  
  
Haley was unsure whether she should stay with Keith in his current state. Although she knew that he was harmless, she wasn't so sure she wanted to bear witness to his breakdown. She had a hard enough time dealing with her own pain, let alone the pain of other people. After Nathan left, she had to make her way back to class where she promptly fell into another fit of tears, which granted her the right of being excused for the rest of the day. Of course, without Nathan to take her home, Haley opted to walk, not wanting to speak with anyone about her ordeal. No, Haley needed Haley time and even if it gave her blisters on her feet she was going to get that time.   
  
And so she did.   
  
For five and half hours, Haley did nothing but walk around Tree Hill, thinking and looking. Reminiscing about her time with Lucas and sobbing after thinking about the last words she had ever uttered to Lucas. She tried desperately to shift focus on better times and succeeded by thinking about grade school, school plays, their first kiss, their vow to stay friends forever. Then she thought back to when they talked about where they wanted to go to college, their futures, their dreams.  
  
Now...  
  
"Okay," Haley said quietly as she shut the door behind her and walked slowly toward Keith. She watched as Keith grabbed a chair from beside him and slid it over toward Haley.  
  
"Have a seat, Haley," Keith slurred. He chuckled and then said, "God, I must look like a slob to you. I'm sorry."  
  
"No, you don't," Haley said, "And even if you did, you have every right to be."  
  
Keith looked at Haley, his head slightly shifting from side to side as he stared at her. "Thank you," he finally said as he turned to stare at the floor once again.  
  
Silence reigned over the garage for some time before Keith finally spoke up.   
  
"I, um...I held Lucas right here just as he was taking his final breaths," Keith said quietly, "He, uh...he pleaded to me not leave him. And by God..." Keith smiled, shaking his head, "I didn't leave that boy for anything." Keith took another swig of his beer bottle.  
  
Haley quietly looked at Keith and then at the spot he was referring to. Although there was no more trace of blood on the pavement, for some reason, Haley could clearly envision the moment in her head and it almost made her physically ill.  
  
"But even worse than watching my own nephew die in my arms...is to have to give the news to his mother," Keith continued. "God, she loves him so much. And for him to be taken away like this it's just...just..." Keith was stricken with speechlessness and simply stood up and without a word, threw the beer bottle into the distant wall of the garage, watching as it shattered into dozens of pieces.  
  
Haley winced at this action but not by much. Her nerves were already shot so a shattered bottle against a wall, however sudden, was not nearly enough to phase her. She stared at the wall, and then looked up at Keith who was looking at the wall as well.  
  
Keith placed his hands over his face and groaned. "Dammit..." he muttered, "I'm sorry, Haley." But his apology was met with the young woman standing up, walking to him, and quietly embracing his frame.   
  
"I've never really got to know you, Mr. Scott," Haley whispered, "And I could kick myself because you were always an important part of Lucas's life. I hope that I can help you and Karen through this."  
  
Keith looked down at the young girl and embraced her back, his eyes closed. "Thank you," he said quietly.  
  
***  
  
"Where have you been all day?"   
  
Nathan sighed as he looked over to the source of the voice. His father sat in a chair but instantly stood up and walked toward Dan.  
  
"I was worried about you, Nathan," Dan said as he made his way toward his remaining son, "I heard you had left school..." but as Dan attempted to embrace his son he was met with hostility as Nathan pushed his away.  
  
"Don't touch me..." Nathan said quietly in a trembling voice.  
  
Dan was shocked by his son's actions but noticed that the young man's face was pale and that his expression was blank. Not even anger was portrayed in his voice when he was told to back away. But even worse was the smell of alcohol that emanated from his son's body.  
  
"Have you been drinking," Dan asked heatedly.   
  
Nathan shook his head as he began to make his way toward the stairs only to be stopped by his father's strong hand. Nathan was jerked back in front of his father.  
  
"Answer me, Nathan!" Dan asked, "Were you drinking?" Dan looked at his son, but he knew the answer. It was as clear as day. "This must be a new level of stupid for you, Nathan! Drinking and driving, not caring about yourself or anyone else, for that matter! How far are you willing to push my buttons!?"  
  
"Just stop..." Nathan said quietly, not maintaining eye contact with Dan.  
  
"Stop? Stop?! Oh, I'll tell you when I'll stop, God dammit! I'll stop when you finally get your act together! I'll stop when you start thinking about other people instead of your damn self all of the time! I don't want to have to lose another one of my son's, Nathan!"  
  
Nathan looked up at his father at this comment, a look of anger clear across his face. "Like you ever gave a damn about Lucas, you son of a..." but Nathan held his tongue on that insult, "Here you are, acting like you're some grieving parent when all you ever gave Lucas was grief. Hell, you did it to me, too but at least you gave me a roof over my head!"  
  
"Damn right," Dan exclaimed, "And you should be grateful!"  
  
"For what!?" Nathan asked heatedly and scoffed. He began walking around the area in which they stood. "Grateful for everything that you bought me? Grateful for the stuff that you got for me and mom? Grateful for all of the vacations and the cars and the CDs and all of that other shit!?"  
  
Dan was shocked to hear his son curse right in front of him, his anger rising, his patience falling, but he continued to listen.  
  
"Should I be grateful that you neglected your other son to take care of me and mom? Or...should I be grateful that I at least got to know Lucas...a person not poisoned by you?" Nathan spat angrily, "I think I should hate you. I should hate you for everything you've put me through. I should hate you for everything you put mom through..."  
  
"Nathan..." Dan tried.  
  
"...I should hate you for keeping me from ever getting to know my brother," Nathan interrupted, "And I do...I hate you so much."  
  
Dan's anger instantly dissipated to a mix of pain and sorrow at his son's words, "Nate..."  
  
"Please!!" Nathan yelled, suddenly breaking down, "Just...just shut up! I hate you!! I hate you for ever keeping me from my brother!! I hate you for everything that you've done to make his life a living hell! I hate you for choosing me over him!!"  
  
Dan could only look at his son.  
  
Nathan looked up at his father with tears streaming down his face, "And why, huh? HUH!? Why me? Why am I so special? What have I ever done to deserve everything and leave him behind with nothing!? He had so much more than I probably will ever have and..." Nathan sobbed, covering his eyes with a trembling hand as he turned away from his father.  
  
"Nathan...son," Dan said quietly, "I know this must be hard on you but...son, you've got to stay strong."  
  
Nathan chuckled at his father's statement. "Strong, huh?" he repeated, "Well I guess I'm not strong enough, huh? I couldn't even keep it together when I saw him today."  
  
"What?" Dan said, his eyes filled with even more concern than before, "What do you mean?"  
  
"Yeah, I, uh...I saw him at the hospital, down in the morgue with the rest of the stiffs," Nathan said grimly, "God, dad you should've seen him. He was...he looked so...dead."  
  
"Nathan," Dan said walking closer to his son, "Son, why the hell did you go there? You shouldn't have done that."  
  
"And I know that sounds stupid, right?" Nathan went on, ignoring his father, "But, um...he just looked so empty. I mean..." Nathan felt as if another torrent of sobs would attack him but he held it back, blowing out a gust of air from his mouth, "...he was so alive and to see him like that, it just...it just blew my mind."  
  
Dan could only stand and listen to his son describe the reality of death, something that Dan never hoped Nathan would see.  
  
"He was so pale...and he looked so cold..." Nathan whispered.  
  
"Nathan..." Dan started but was interrupted by a closing door from the back. He looked at his son once more and then rushed to find Deb walking in from the kitchen with a tired look on her face. "Deb, it's late..."  
  
"I don't give a damn, Dan," Deb said wearily, "I just got back from Karen's. She's a wreck and so am I."  
  
"Well, our son needs both of us," Dan said as he pointed to behind him, "So unless you're too tired to help me out here I guess he can go right on suffering, huh?"  
  
"Nathan?" Deb asked, her tired expression replaced with all of the worry of any concerned mother. She quickly walked past Dan, dropping her purse on the table. "Nathan? Sweetie?" Deb said as she stopped in front of her son, "Honey, are you all right?"  
  
Nathan only looked up at his mother with tearful eyes and slowly embraced her, whispering a weak, "No," as a reply.  
  
"God, Nathan," Deb said, noticing that her only son had been drinking and, no doubt, driving as well. However, all she did was place a gentle hand through his dark brown hair. "It's going to be all right, honey. It's going to be all right."  
  
Dan looked at the two from the doorway of the kitchen and sighed, turning his eyes downward.  
  
***  
  
Deb slowly walked down the stairs and sighed as she made her way to the bottom, noticing that Dan was sitting on the sofa in the living room.   
  
Dan looked up at his wife with concerned eyes. "How's Nathan?"  
  
"I had to give him something to help him sleep, Dan. How do you think?" Deb replied shortly. She turned to head into the kitchen.  
  
"Wait," Dan said as he quickly stood up from the sofa, "Deb, please don't do this. We're just starting to mend the bridges. From a near divorce to making love in our bedroom once again, Deb...we can't let this thing destroy us."  
  
Deb turned to face her husband once again. "I'll admit that we have come a long way, Dan. And I wish to God that this didn't affect us this way. But I've come to realize that you're still the same. You haven't changed, I just allowed myself to believe you have."  
  
"Deb, please," Dan protested.  
  
"No, Dan!" Deb replied heatedly, "You just said it yourself, 'can't let this THING destroy us.' And what exactly is this THING to you anyway?"  
  
"Deb, you know I feel terrible about all of this," Dan replied.  
  
"Oh, I know you do, despite that transparent façade you put on earlier," Deb said, "The question is whether or not you have the guts to admit that to yourself as well as to everyone else."  
  
Dan looked at his wife, "Deb..."  
  
"Dan!" Deb barked angrily, "I am not going to stand here and let you string me along like this! Stop with the games! Stop with the lies! I want to know..." Deb walked toward her husband and grabbed his arms, "...what are you thinking? What are you feeling? Really?"  
  
Dan looked at his wife who only gave him a hardened stare in return. Although he was ready to admit all of his feelings, his mouth remained closed.  
  
Deb dropped her hands from Dan's arms and shook her head. "You know something, Dan? I'm sick of you. Sick of you, sick of you tearing people down, sick of you passing judgment on everyone but yourself!"  
  
Dan remained silent.  
  
"I even tried to defend you to Karen when she said that you were to not go near Lucas' funeral service," Deb added.  
  
"What?" Dan said suddenly, "She can't do that! I have a right to be there!"  
  
"Oh, really?" Deb said, "And what gives you that right, huh? You expect to have no part in the boy's life yet when he DIES you decide to finally be there!? How twisted is that, Dan?"  
  
"She cannot do that to me, Deb!" Dan said, "I deserve..."  
  
"You deserve NOTHING!!" Deb screamed viciously, causing Dan to become silent once more, "You don't even deserve the title of being Lucas' father!! Keith does!! Keith had to watch him die in his arms and had to tell the police what happened and had to tell Karen what happened all while Lucas' blood soaked his body!!"  
  
"Oh, God..." Dan whispered as he placed a hand over his eyes.  
  
"Do you understand, Dan!?" Deb continued, "People are suffering and will continue to suffer for a long time! And what are you doing?"  
  
Dan looked at his wife from under his hand. His eyes were clearly ready to shed tears.  
  
"You probably haven't even made a phone call to anyone," the woman said quietly, "Because you're Dan Scott...the best damn car salesman, husband, and father in Tree Hill...right?"  
  
Dan could only look at his wife, shaking his head, mouthing the word, "no" over and over again.  
  
"Yes! Yes, Dan! That's exactly what you are!" Deb yelled, "And if that's what helps you sleep at night, then you can right on believing it...but I'm not gonna be around to share it with you."  
  
"Deb, please..." Dan said quietly.  
  
"I'm going to fix myself a sandwich and then I going to sleep in the guest room," Deb said as she turned toward the kitchen, walking away from her husband, "I don't give a damn what you do."  
  
Dan watched as his wife walked into the kitchen, pushing the doors away, and watched as they closed behind her, blocking her from his sight. Dan sighed long and deeply, looking up at the ceiling and finally made a decision. He began taking the steps two-by-two.  
  
He was going for a drive.  
  
***  
  
Tree Hill Hospital. "10:00" read clearly on the digital interface of Dan's dashboard as he drove into the parking lot of the hospital. What the man did not realize was that he had parked in the exact same spot his son Nathan had parked in hours earlier. Dan had felt some force bring him here. He did not know why or even cared to why he was here. All he knew was that he wanted to see...  
  
"...Lucas," Dan whispered as he stepped out of his vehicle and closed the door behind him. He did not even set the alarm, something that had become second nature to him over the course of five months of owning his brand new gray Mustang. And as he walked across the street, he only focused on the dual double doors ahead, oblivious to the fact that, if any cars had passed, he would have been an easy target.  
  
"I would like to see my son. He...he died. His name was Lucas Scott," Dan managed to get out.  
  
"The name was Lucas Scott? Oh, here er djdfo dsasjrh..." was all that Dan could decipher; the rest seemed to run together into nonsensical noise just as his trip into the hospital seemed to be the makings of a dream. He couldn't remember actually making his way past all of the doctors or nurses nor could he tell whether or not he was walking or floating behind this woman that was leading him to the mortuary. But as he stopped in front of a grouping of drawers with the woman facing him, everything seemed to come back.  
  
"Take your time," the woman said and walked away, leaving Dan standing above Lucas' body. He was still looking at the wall where the woman stood until he finally realized no one was there. His eyes focused downward toward the blond-haired young man lying before him.   
  
"Oh, God..." Dan whispered as reality hit, "Oh, my God...why? Why did this happen to you?"  
  
It almost seemed as if Dan's silence warranted a response from the young man lying in front of him, but Dan broke the silence with a deep sigh as he placed his hand over his face as if trying to wash the visual externally from his mind. But when his hand was removed from his face, Lucas' unmoving face was there to greet him again.  
  
Dan's hand remained in the air but then slowly fell upon Lucas' forehead, gently stroking the dirty blond hair upon the teen's head that was still soft, still clean. Dan traced the back of his hand softly over Lucas' face, caressing the young man's forever hardened features.   
  
"You're so cold," Dan choked as he looked down at Lucas, "God, you're so cold..."  
  
Lucas replied with silence.  
  
"I'm so sorry..." Dan whispered as his caressing hand along with his entire body began to tremble, "I'm so sorry that I never..." but Dan's words cut off with a loud sob that racked his body, "GOD! Why am I doing this!? I didn't know you! You didn't know me! We never..." but Dan was quieted by another sob that forced him reclaim his caressing hand, and place it over his mouth. "Why am I doing this..." Dan whispered once more and finally broke as he slowly fell on top of his son's chest, his head close to Lucas'.   
  
"Why...?" Dan pleaded to some invisible presence, tears streaming down his cheeks and onto Lucas' bare, cold chest, "...why?"  
  
And Dan stood there, over his son, crying quietly as he embraced the young man's silent, unmoving form. 


	4. Second Stop

Keith sat at the chair, his hands covering his face as his body shuddered from both the coldness of the garage air and from fear. He was unsure what had happened in the last hour except that when he returned to reality, he saw Haley slowly slipping into her bra and pulling on her faded pink T-shirt. Her bottom half was still uncovered, save for the black thong that rode just slightly below her hips.   
  
"There's nothing to worry about," she had said quietly as she picked up her jeans from the concrete floor and slipped them on, her hair draped over her face, "We both needed this..." despite her words, Haley sounded unsure, her features confirming her insecurity. She turned to look at the older man sitting in the chair, his shirt nowhere to be found, his denim jeans unbuttoned and slightly unzipped.   
  
Keith allowed his hands to slide down over his mouth as his eyes focused on the boots   
  
that he always wore: brown, ragged boots that showed their age as well as their resilience.  
  
"It shouldn't have happened..." Keith whispered quietly, his words slightly mumbled underneath his hands, "You're still just a kid. I'm sorry..."  
  
"Hey," Haley said as she walked toward the man and crouched in front of him, "If I didn't want it to happen, I would have said so. And I'm more mature than you think so don't worry about it, okay? I won't say anything if you don't." Haley gently pried Keith's rough hands from his face and placed them against her cheek. "To think...someone as rough as you could be so gentle..." Haley looked into Keith's reddened eyes, her own welling with emotion.   
  
"...Thank you," Keith said and made an honorable attempt to smile at the young woman.  
  
Haley smiled back and stood up, grabbing her backpack from the floor where she let it fall and began to walk toward the door. Stopping at the door, she turned back toward Keith. "You take care, okay?" she said with genuine concern, "Karen needs you now."  
  
Keith looked up at Haley and watched as the young woman made her way out of the garage, closing the door slowly behind her.  
  
Keith sighed and stood up, walking toward where Haley had thrown his shirt after she stripped it off of him. Picking it up, he unraveled it and slipped it on over his naked torso and zipped and fastened his jeans.   
  
He could still feel her on top of him, her soft, lithe hands across his chest, her head and long hair on his shoulder, her cool, sweet breath causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.  
  
A hand through his hair stirred Keith into reality once again and he walked toward the table and picked up his keys from the surface. The contents of the table were noticeably disheveled, reminding him constantly of what had occurred.  
  
Keith looked at the table a moment longer and then walked toward the light switch and turned off the lights and, for a time, quietly stood there, allowing what had happened to sink further into his mind.  
  
***  
  
She sat in silence on the comfortable sofa as the television quietly garbled on about events she never really cared about and now had no grasp of, all things considered. She sat there staring blankly at the soft glow of the device in the surrounding darkness of her living room, a blanket covering her body as she drew closer into the fabric cocoon she had developed for herself.   
  
And then a ring.  
  
Karen looked up slowly from the television, hearing the doorbell the first time, but never getting up. She allowed it to ring for at least three more times before she willed herself away from the sofa and began making her way toward the door, the blanket falling away from her body and onto the carpet floor.  
  
As she stood in front of the door, she made a feeble attempt at readying herself for the visitor, sliding stray locks of hair away from her face. Sighing, she looked out of the window of the door...and saw him. Her face became hot as her eyes burned and she unlocked the door and grabbed the knob.  
  
The door swung open with powerful force to reveal Dan standing behind it.  
  
"What the HELL do you want!?" Karen yelled furiously.  
  
"I just need to talk to you," Dan said quietly, "May I come in?"  
  
"You most certainly may not, Dan!" Karen exclaimed, "So I suggest you turn around, get back into your car, and drive away unless you want to be taken away by the cops."  
  
"Karen, please..." Dan said as he looked into her eyes, his face revealed in the porch light. There was a clear expression of pain and anguish across the man's face accented by tears that still managed to find their way across his cheeks. "I-I need to talk to you about Lucas."  
  
Karen looked at Dan long and hard and finally left the doorway, signaling for Dan to enter.  
  
Dan slowly made his way into the woman's home, shutting the door behind him.   
  
"So...I trust Deborah told you about what I wanted from you, right?" Karen asked.  
  
Dan nodded slowly, his hands shoved deeply into his coat pockets.  
  
Karen nodded as well, her arms crossed over chest. "Good. So then why are you here? What? Do my words still not mean anything to you, even now?"  
  
"Karen, that's just it. I want to be a part of this. I...I want to be there for you," Dan said, "You can't just..."  
  
"Don't. You. DARE tell me what I can and cannot do, Dan!" Karen yelled, "He was my son, for God's sake! You had no part in that boy's life! I'm the one that has lost somebody!"  
  
"He was my son, too, Karen," Dan said quietly, "As much as he was yours."  
  
"Oh, well," Karen said as she threw her hands up in the air, "If you call being a fucking sperm donor a parent then have at it! Go ahead! Tell me what you want to do! Tell me what you want to do! But so help me God, you're gonna watch while I shoot down every last thing you say!"  
  
"Karen..." Dan started.  
  
"You have no idea what it's like to grieve for a child, Dan!" Karen yelled, cutting him off, "Because if you did, you wouldn't be standing here right now! You would be like me, cut off from the world instead of acting like you're entitled to more rights. And what right do you have, Dan? Huh?"  
  
Dan only looked at Karen.  
  
"What right do you have to come here and tell me what to do? To tell me what to do with my son? How dare you even think you have ANY authority over my decisions!"  
  
"All I want is to be there for his service..." Dan pleaded, "That's all, Karen. I-I just want to be there to..."  
  
"To what, huh?" Karen asked with a subdued anger, "To gloat about how you were right? About how he would never become anything? About how...how he was never worth anything to you?"  
  
"Karen, I would never..."  
  
"Oh, don't fool yourself, Dan! You know that's what you're thinking! You know that's what you were hoping for!"  
  
"I NEVER wished death upon Lucas!!" Dan screamed, "EVER!"  
  
"LIAR!!" Karen screamed backed, "You shit-faced LIAR!! You wanted him dead even before he was even BORN!!"  
  
Dan was shocked, his face frozen in utter confusion.   
  
"You wanted an abortion the day you found out I was pregnant," Karen said, "Remember that? Or were you just so preoccupied with your 'grief' that you just forgot?"  
  
"Karen. I know what I wanted in the past but it doesn't matter anymore," Dan pleaded more calmly, "Now...all I can think about is Lucas. He's gone and...and I just don't know what to do."  
  
Karen looked at Dan, shaking her head. "You know what's sad?" she asked, "What's sad is that I actually believe the words that just came out of your mouth. I really believe that you did care about Lucas. But it's too late now, isn't it? Because he's dead and in the eighteen years that you had a chance to know him you never did. Sure, you knew ABOUT him, but you never truly KNEW him. And that's a tragedy, Dan!"  
  
"I know," Dan whispered, "I know and I'm sorry."  
  
"Sorry isn't enough," Karen replied flatly, "Because sorry isn't going to change anything. Sorry isn't going to bring Lucas back. And sorry sure as hell isn't going to make me forgive you."  
  
"Karen, please..." Dan begged, "Please, don't do this! Please don't keep me from him!"  
  
"You've had your time, Dan," Karen said simply, "Now you need to leave. Get out." And with those words, Karen walked toward the door and held it open.  
  
"No, Karen..." Dan pleaded, "Please, just change your mind! Don't do this to me!"  
  
"Dan, you heard what I said," Karen said with growing irritation, "Leave now!"  
  
"No!" Dan cried and grabbed Karen's arm, "I'm not leaving until you do what's right! I won't let you keep me away from my son! OUR son! I won't!"  
  
"Let me go, Dan!" Karen screamed, "Have you lost your mind!?"  
  
"Just change your mind!" Dan sobbed, tears streaming down his face, "You're not like this! Y-you're better than this!"  
  
"Dan...OW! You're hurting me! Let me go!" Karen cried.  
  
Dan looked at Karen and looked at what he was doing. His grip softened and just as he was about to release Karen's arm, he felt a hand turn him and his right shoulder around. A hard fist met sharply with Dan's jaw and in one instant, Dan came from standing in front of Karen to making rough impact with the porch, his head slamming into a wooden post.  
  
Karen gasped, her hands going in front of her face as she witnessed Dan's collapse and then looked up at his attacker, Keith, who stood in front of her, shaking the slight pain from his fist. He was still looking at his brother whom he had just struck to the ground.  
  
"Oh my God," Karen whispered as she walked toward Keith to embrace him, "Thank you so much."  
  
Dan's eyes opened once again as he groaned, feeling the stinging pain of splinters in his scalp. He could feel the warmth of blood trickling down his forehead.   
  
"I suggest you get up and drive away now, little bro," Keith said, "I don't want to hurt you again but I will."  
  
Dan looked at the floor of the porch and then made a slight chuckle as he slowly picked himself up from the floor. Staggering to his feet, he held his hand to his head as an attempt to stop the blood flow. He looked at Karen and Keith standing beside one another, staring at him. "So now your playing guard dog, huh, Keith?" Dan spat viciously, "I guess you'll do anything to get into bed with this slut."  
  
Keith charged to attack Dan again, only to be held back by Karen. "I want you gone, Dan!" Karen cried, "And don't you ever come back here!"  
  
Dan looked at the pair once more before he walked past them and toward his car. "You know this is wrong, Karen! You can believe that!" he called as he neared his car, "I just hope you can live with yourself!"  
  
Karen did not respond and watched as the car started up and drove away from the house.  
  
"Are you okay?" Keith asked quietly, looking down at Karen.  
  
Karen could not tear her eyes away from Dan's distancing car, even as her vision became blurry. She sobbed, placing her hands in front of her face. "What was he thinking?" she whimpered.  
  
Keith's response was to embrace her in a tight hug and closing his eyes as well as they were bathed in the yellow light of the porch.  
  
***   
  
"All of the lies and the deceit...all of this hurt that we've brought on ourselves and others...it has to stop!"  
  
"I agree. This isn't the time to be angry at each other. All we should be doing is grieving for him."  
  
The two young women look at the headstone that reads "LUCAS SCOTT 1986-2004, MAY HE REST IN PEACE." The two young women cry and embrace one another.  
  
"I'm so sorry for everything!"  
  
"I'm sorry too!"  
  
Peyton sighed as she wrote the final letter, dotted the final piece of punctuation, and shaded in a final shadow that was cast upon the two women that she had drawn on the piece of paper. Placing the pencil down gently, she sighed and looked at her work.   
  
The young woman had since calmed down. Her eyes were cried out and all she could do was go home and wander around the house, searching for something to do. And she did. The bathroom needed tackling so she went to it, scrubbing the tub, the toilet, and the sink to near perfection and then mopping the white tile floor until it looked and smelled fresh. Moving to the kitchen, she worked tirelessly washing dishes, scrubbing the floor, and cleaning any remotely dirty surface that her eyes rested upon.   
  
Deciding to get dinner ready, she dug through the fridge until she produced various things: a chicken, part of a roast, and leftover ground beef. She decided upon the chicken and, in seemingly no time, had prepared lemon pepper chicken with a side of broccoli.   
  
When her father came home, she acted as if nothing was bothering her and, in some perverse way, there wasn't. Even as her father embraced her, telling her it would be okay, Peyton was all smiles, saying she could handle it, that it was no big deal.  
  
Her father knew better and, after a slight argument, told his daughter to go get some rest.  
  
And she did so, until she awoke at midnight, finding herself still in her school clothes.  
  
So she decided to draw until, a few hours later, she had produced another dramatic comic that rested snugly in her lap.  
  
She didn't know why she had made the drawing, yet it spoke volumes to her about the conflict going on inside of her.  
  
"Hello?" a small voice asks on the other line.  
  
"...Hey, it's me."  
  
An uncomfortable silence responds on the other end.  
  
"Brooke, I-I know what happened has affected us all but...that doesn't give me any right to blow up at you like that."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I've made just as many mistakes as you have, maybe even more. I don't want you to ever feel that you're some phenomenal screw-up because I'm probably the first in line to take that title."  
  
A small chuckle sounds on the other end.  
  
"You're grieving, too. We both loved Lucas and now he's...he's gone. I shouldn't make you feel any worse than you already do, so..."  
  
"I'm sorry," the two girls say in unison.  
  
Silence dominates both ends of the phone.  
  
"You have no reason..." Peyton started.  
  
"Yes, I do," Brooke replies, "I have every reason to be sorry. My lies and my anger...they just made me more of a bitch than usual. My God...when I lied about how I was pregnant...I wanted the both of you to hurt. But when I think of how...how much time was wasted doing something like that it just..." Brooke sighs and sniffles, "...God, Peyton. When will we just wake up from this nightmare?"  
  
Peyton was quiet, her golden locks falling over her face. "It's not a dream...or a nightmare." She looked down at the drawing, at the headstone that she had drawn for Lucas. "This is real, Brooke. And all we have now are the people that are still here...and each other."  
  
Brooke made a laughing sob. "Yeah, I guess we do," Brooke said, "Because isn't that what Lucas always wanted? Always trying to make things better between us, even if it seemed hopeless."  
  
"Yeah," Peyton said with a smile, a tear rolling down her cheek, "And he did it, too, didn't he? We're stronger than ever because of Lucas."  
  
"Yeah," Brooke managed to say and made another pained laughed, "Thank you, Peyton. I'll see you tomorrow at school?"  
  
"I don't know..." Peyton said, "I don't know if I'm gonna make it."  
  
Brooke was silent for a moment and then replied with, "Well, call me when you make your decision. I'll be there for you no matter what."  
  
Peyton smiled. "I love you, Brooke," she said amidst a sob.  
  
"Love you, too, buddy," Brooke said, "Good-night."  
  
"Night," Peyton said and hung up the receiver and placed her hand over her mouth and sobbed quietly. Taking her hand away from her mouth, she made a smile as she let her hands trace Lucas' name on the comic strip. "Thank you, Lucas," she whispered.  
  
***  
  
It was a warm and bright Friday morning as the funeral procession made its way slowly down the main streets of Tree Hill, a black hearse being followed by dozens of other cars in an orderly procession toward the cemetery only another mile away.   
  
As the procession made its way through the streets, many people along the sidewalks stopped what they were doing and stared as the black hearse and closely following car of the same color led the procession of thirty or more vehicles. Many people looked on as the hearse distanced itself from their sight and, like clockwork, they began their day again as if nothing unusual had occurred.   
  
It is because they knew who was in that hearse and it was best not to linger on the idea, unless depression was a desired effect. Nothing could be done for the young man inside that hearse.  
  
The procession continued its way through the streets, even passing the very place where that young man had met his end. It had been closed ever since that night.  
  
It passed the playground where that young man and some of his closest friends had played basketball for hours into the night and then hung out by the riverside, chatting it up about school, girls, and their futures.   
  
Of course, that young man's future, whatever it may have been, would never be realized. Whatever possibilities may have formed were shattered the moment he drew his last breath while lying in the shuddering arms of his uncle. Whatever dreams or wishes were created for him have dissipated the moment those that loved him realized that he would never come back.   
  
***   
  
"...and as you say your final goodbyes, know that Lucas is at peace in his new home and with his new family with God. Know that he is at peace with himself and all of you and that he is waiting for all of you to move on with your lives, so that he may rest in peace as well."   
  
Karen sobbed as she buried her veiled face into Keith's chest, finally breaking down just as the minister finished his final words. A tissue to her eyes, she shook with grief as she held fast to the man's jacket.   
  
Keith looked down at Karen and rubbed her shoulder, using every fiber in his being to remain strong for the woman. He returned his gaze to where the white coffin, now six feet underground, once shone brilliantly in the light: a gift from Dan.  
  
"Thank you, and God be with you all," the minister said and slowly, people began to slowly get up and hug one another, chattering quietly.   
  
Keith rubbed Karen's shoulder vigorously and whispered, "Are you ready to go?"  
  
Karen shook her head negatively. "I-I need to stay here. So many people came. I want to thank them." The woman lifted her head from Keith's shoulder and made an attempt at smiling at him. "I'll be fine and...thank you, Keith for your support."  
  
Keith nodded and stood as Karen stood and left toward a group of her friends. They turned and instantly embraced her one by one.  
  
"Keith?" the voice of a young woman said from behind and Keith turned to find Haley standing there.   
  
"Hi, Haley," Keith said and he hugged the young woman gently, "How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm fine...and you?" she asked.  
  
Keith nodded. "It'll take some time but...I'm okay."  
  
Haley nodded and turned to look at the rectangular hole in the ground. "He was my best friend in the world, Keith. We would always talk about everything that went on with each other. And even when times were bad, we were still there for each other. But after how I just left things with him..." Haley trailed off, shaking her head.  
  
"Hey, hey," Keith said placing a hand on her shoulder, "Whatever problems you and Lucas may have had before he..." Keith cleared his throat, "...What I'm saying is Lucas cared about you no matter what. Some little disagreement would never change that. Some relationships just can't be broken, no matter how hard you try."  
  
Haley nodded and then closed her eyes. "And what about our relationship, Keith?" she asked, "I need to know what will happen between us."  
  
Keith watched as Haley turned around to face him once again.  
  
"Keith, I'm..." Haley started.  
  
"Haley...are you...?" Keith said quietly.  
  
Haley looked at Keith for a moment and then shook her head. "No, I...it wasn't my time, so to speak," Haley smiled, "I just wanted to know that you'll do your best to keep what happened that night between us. Nathan and I...it's getting rocky and something like this will only make it worse."  
  
Keith nodded, what seemed like a sigh of relief escaping his lips. "You don't have to worry about me," Keith said, "I have a lot riding on it, too. Karen doesn't need more pain in her life right now."  
  
Haley nodded. "I totally agree," Haley said and held Keith's hand in hers.  
  
"Haley..." a voice called out and she turned to find Nathan walking toward the grave, "Are you ready?"  
  
Haley nodded positively and, with one final look at Keith, turned and walked away from him and toward Nathan. As she stood beside the young man, she watched him look at the grave for a good while before finally talking his arm around her and leading her toward the exit of the cemetery.  
  
Keith sighed and put a hand through his hair and turned to make his way toward Karen, briefly greeting and passing Peyton and Brooke as they stood away from a larger crowd.  
  
"Do you think the minister is right, Peyton?" Brooke asked as she wiped away a tear from her face, "Do you think Luke is at peace?"  
  
Peyton looked at her best friend and gave her a smile. "You know, I never really got into religion as long as I have lived and when my mother died I was further pushed from it. All that 'God has a purpose' crap wore me out. But...yeah, wherever he is, I think he's doing all right."  
  
Brooke smiled back and the two young women hugged one another.  
  
As the day drew to a close, the group of people dwindled down to twenty, then to fifteen, then to five, until finally, the only people left were those that tended to the grave, sifting soft, black soil onto the white grave, filling the hole. Before long, the grave was filled and then no one remained as the clouds moved over the cemetery and began to lightly drizzle the graves with their life-giving water.  
  
The soil softened and, as the rains dispersed, hardened into more solid ground.  
  
As the days went by, flowers were placed amongst Lucas Scott's gray marble headstone, another gift from Dan. Flowers of all vibrant and gorgeous colors lined the grave, and all were subject to the eventual effects of nature, wilting before the cold stone that they once so gracefully lay against.   
  
The months went by and the soil began to grow lighter, a sign that it was fast becoming rooted by grass, its integrity strengthening, even as more rain, and even snow, became a common occurrence around the headstone.  
  
Thus, twenty years pass in Tree Hill and what once was a daily reminder of tragedy has now become a distant memory of grief as a new death affects the small town once again...  
  
***  
  
"Yeah, Mom, I know," a middle-aged man replied on his cell phone as he drove his black Mustang, "I just wanted to make sure you were all right." He was silent for a while, listening to the words of his mother as she talked. "I still loved him, but love can only solve so much, you know?"  
  
He noticed that he had bypassed the house he was trying to find and stopped, backing up the car. "Yeah, well, I gotta go. I'm here...I love you, too, Mom. Bye." And with that, the man turned off the phone with one hand as he parallel parked with the other hand on the wheel.   
  
Sighing, Nathan Scott placed his head back on the seat of the car and looked up at the ceiling. 'It shouldn't be this hard,' he thought to himself and he turned to once again to look at the beach house that he had parked in front of.  
  
Since his leave for college, Nathan had rarely kept in touch with his father. His excuse? Both parents were involved in the biggest divorce case Tree Hill had ever seen and he wanted no part of it. However, he made it a point to talk to his mother, more so than his father.  
  
Of course, it ran deeper than that. Nathan just couldn't deal anymore and he needed an escape. College and, eventually, family life proved to be the greatest barriers between him and his father and Nathan would have been content to live out the rest of his days just like that...until his father died.  
  
"You know your father," Deborah had said over the phone amidst sobs, "I always thought he drank too much. But when we found out that the gun used to kill Lucas was the same one stolen from him two years earlier he...just went into a downward spiral. He got alcohol poisoning and just..." she trailed off, allowing for the news to sink in her son's head.  
  
"I guess I never really knew what he was going through until it was too late," she had said finally.  
  
"I guess not."  
  
Nathan stepped out of his car and shut the door, slowly walking toward the beach house, still in its gorgeously pristine condition as it shimmered wondrously against the sea. It was the man's job to decide whether to keep it or sell it to the highest bidder. Even as Dan's final gift to his son, it was little consolation to a man that had felt the lack of his father's love for so long.  
  
"The old man still cared about his stuff, that's for sure," Nathan said as he stepped inside the house and found that it was equally as pristine on the inside as well as in the outside. He made his way into many area of the house, tracking upstairs and then back down to the first level, eventually finding his way into the living room where numerous pictures lay across numerous surfaces.   
  
"Oh, Dad..." Nathan sighed as he noticed a picture of himself and his father posing for a picture. Nathan remembered when the picture was made when he was a teenager.   
  
"Are you sure you're all right doing this, Nathan?" Deborah asked, "I don't want this to be hard on you."  
  
"Don't worry, Mom," Nathan said, "It's been so long I've forgotten what he looks like."  
  
Of course, Nathan was only joking but he might as well have been telling the truth. It had been too long since he had seen his father. In fact, the final time he saw him alive was over two years ago when he was still married to his now ex-wife. He got to see his two grandchildren for the first time when they had turned four and five.  
  
"They look just like me!" Dan joked playfully as he smiled at Nathan, his odor consisting of cologne and strong liquor. It was more than obvious that he had been drinking and his eyes, speech, and manner said everything. Nathan and his wife were not amused.  
  
Nathan sighed as he thought back to their final conversation over the phone. His father was drunk, as usual, yet something in his tone made him sound clearer than he had ever been in the last few years.  
  
"Son...before I die, I just want to let you know that I love you so much. I've always loved my sons and that won't ever change. It never really mattered to me what you did. I just wanted you to live and give you the best there was. All I ever wanted was a chance to be there for my boys. But..." and with a laugh Dan yelled, "...But I SCREWED UP!! I couldn't even protect one son and then I lose the other because he doesn't want anything to do with me!"  
  
"Dad..." Nathan had said with much frustration.  
  
"No, let me finish. I promise that from now on...I'm gonna do what's right for my boys. I'm gonna...I'm gonna be there for them both. Encourage 'em. Love 'em. Make 'em happy. No more of this ruler shit! Because I love 'em! I love 'em with all my heart and soul, Nathan! I love you, Nate!"  
  
Nathan had simply told his father to go to bed and hung up on him without another word.   
  
"Wherever the hell you are, old man," Nathan said as he looked up at the ceiling, "I can only hope that you're finally at peace."  
  
The silence responded accordingly and left Nathan to his thoughts.  
  
***  
  
"So, is that it? After everything we've been through you're just gonna drop it all because of one stupid mistake? Nathan..."  
  
"Look, I...I didn't want to do this. Trust me, if there was any way around this, I would have taken it. But...you're asking me to just forget that you cheated on me, Haley! Never mind that it was with my uncle! The simple fact that you cheated on me, it just..."  
  
"Don't forget that you've made mistakes, too, Nathan! Don't you ever forget that!"  
  
"Yeah, mistakes that I owned up to! Mistakes that I confessed to you! But you...you wanted to start a relationship with me, based on a lie! Does Keith even know that you were wrong about being pregnant and gave birth to his son, not to mention trying to pass him off as mine?"  
  
"That's my business! And you're one to talk! You're always saying one thing and doing the exact opposite. You're such a hypocrite!"  
  
"Yeah, maybe so. But with all of your talk about truth and honesty, I really doubt that you're so pure yourself."  
  
***  
  
Nathan crouched over his father's grave, a bouquet of roses wrapped in green and white paper in his hands. He had just finished placing a yellow flower reef next to the headstone.  
  
"Hey, stranger," a voice said behind Nathan and he turned to find Brooke Davis Scott standing behind him carrying a bouquet of purple flowers, "How's it going?"  
  
Nathan smiled and stood to give his old friend a hug. "I'm all right. I should be asking you that question."  
  
"I'll live," Brooke said as she walked toward the headstone and placed the flowers on the ground. She stared at the headstone for a long time before she stood and faced Nathan once again. "That old coot never did treat me right when we were married. So why do I still feel like I could drown myself in my own tears right now?"  
  
"I don't know," Nathan said, "I guess that's the curse of the Scott men. We love 'em, we leave 'em, and they keep comin' back for more."  
  
"Hmm, guess so," Brooke said, "So, how're my grandkids?"  
  
Nathan chuckled, "They're fine, 'Mom'. Apparently, they think that everything can be put on credit these days."  
  
"Ouch," Brooke said.  
  
"Yeah, tell me about it," Nathan said, "It never stops. And they're not even in high school yet."  
  
"I can only imagine..." Brooke said, "And how's Marcia?"  
  
"We're...divorced," Nathan said after a bit of discomfort.  
  
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Brooke said, "Heh. Even after twenty years I still I manage to put my foot in my mouth."  
  
"Don't worry about it," Nathan said, "There are worse things that can be talked about."  
  
Mr. Scott, the cancer is spreading...  
  
"Yeah," Brooke said and after a while of looking around she grabbed Nathan by the arm, taking care not to rupture the bouquet in his hands, and they walked toward a familiar area of the cemetery. "I talked to Peyton recently," Brooke began again, "Her husband just got a major promotion out in Washington D.C., of all places, so they have to move again."  
  
"Where are they living now?" Nathan asked with genuine curiosity.  
  
"Out of some cruddy condo in California. Well, if you call a one hundred thousand dollar condo cruddy, which she does," Brooke said, "And I kind of agree with her."  
  
"What? Why?" Nathan asked, ignorant to the facts of many of his former friends.  
  
"Nathan, they've been married for five years and not once have they truly settled down!" Brooke exclaimed, "I don't know about you, but I think that's high time for two things: getting a steady job or calling it all off. She wants a family not a lifetime of traveling the world."  
  
Nathan nodded, noticing that they were drawing closer to his second stop in the cemetery.   
  
"They come back every now and then to visit him," Brooke said as they stopped in front of Lucas' grave, "But this has been the longest gap between visits. I don't know if either Keith or Karen decided it was time to let go, but it's been almost one year."  
  
"Where do they live again?" Nathan asked as he slowly crouched toward the grave and placed the flowers at the headstone.  
  
"New York state," Brooke replied as she watched Nathan graze his hand across the headstone gently, "They have kids. Did you know they have kids?"  
  
"No," Nathan said quietly as he stood up once more, "I didn't know that."  
  
"I've never seen them, though," Brooke said. She looked at Nathan with concern in her eyes. "Nathan, please tell me what's wrong."  
  
"I'm in a cemetery, what do you want?" Nathan asked moodily, "I'm just grieving."  
  
"No offense, but I don't buy that for a second," Brooke replied.  
  
Nathan scoffed quickly and began making his way toward his car, Brooke following close behind him.  
  
...How much time do I have?  
  
God...how can I put this delicately...you'll see your kids into high school, but you won't see them graduate.  
  
Nathan laughs uproariously. You call that "delicate?"  
  
"Nathan," Brooke said as she grabbed his arm, "What aren't you telling me? Come on, I'm your stepmother, for God's sake! I wanna know!"  
  
"First of all, no mother of any kind says wanna and begs like you do and secondly..." Nathan turned to look at the woman in front of him, "...it's nothing at all. I just...need time, all right?"  
  
Brooke stared at Nathan's tired eyes and shook her head. "Should've known. You never were one for opening up."  
  
"Yeah, you should've known," Nathan said, "Now could you let go of my arm? I gotta go."  
  
"But..." Brooke started but a voice calling out to the two people caused them to look around. Their eyes fell on a young man with dark hair in his mid-teens that was walking toward them with a young woman not much older than he with long light hair following close behind him.  
  
Nathan watched as the two people walked toward them...and gasped in shock, nearly dropping his keys as he caught a better look at the young man.  
  
Other than dark brown hair and deep brown eyes, this young man looked identical to Lucas Scott. At first, Nathan thought he was hallucinating but when he felt Brooke's hand tighten around his arm he realized that what he was seeing was the truth.  
  
"Hi, we're sorry to bother you," the young man said, "But we just couldn't help ourselves. Did...either one of you know Lucas Scott?"  
  
"W-what?" Nathan asked with a slight tone of disbelief.  
  
"Well, we saw you were at his grave, we just assumed..."  
  
"We're sorry," the woman beside him said, "We also came to visit his grave and we were just curious, that's all." This woman, aside from minor features, looked identical to Karen Roe.   
  
"Um, yeah," Brooke said after her initial shock, "Lucas was a good friend. In fact, he and Nathan were bro..."  
  
"Best friends," Nathan cut in quickly, "Yeah, um, Lucas and I grew up together. We were rivals, too."  
  
Brooke looked at Nathan, her face silently questioning his response.  
  
"Oh, I see," the Lucas look-alike replied. Something seemed to click in his head and he smiled, "Where are my manners? My name's David and this is my older sister Lauren. Lucas was our half-brother."  
  
Nathan felt butterflies in his stomach. He knew it from the moment he saw them. "Oh, really?" he asked, "So your parents must be..."  
  
"Keith and Karen Scott," the young woman finished, "You know them?"  
  
"Yeah!" Brooke said, "They used to live here. Are they doing all right?"  
  
"They're fine," David replied, "They're really doing good."  
  
"Good," Nathan said and smiled.   
  
"David, it's time to go," Lauren said, "Sorry for the intrusion."  
  
"No, it's all right," Brooke said, "Nice meeting you!"  
  
"Same here!" David called as he flashed her a familiar smile and walked along with his sister until they disappeared behind the trees leading to the other side of the cemetery.  
  
"My God..." Brooke said, "Did you see him? He looked just like him!"  
  
"I know..." Nathan said, "I saw it."  
  
"What was your deal? Why didn't you tell them who you really were? You could have got to know them a bit better and told them everything about Lucas!"  
  
Nathan simply shook his head as he gently pried Brooke's hand off of his arm.  
  
I guess we all gotta go sometime, huh, doc?  
  
Nathan sat in the car seat and looked straight ahead then turned to Brooke. "I want you to have the beach house, Brooke," Nathan said suddenly, "I don't have a need for it and it's just sitting there so...will you take it?"  
  
"Why not?" Brooke said, "I lived there with your father for five years, what's another five to me?" But Brooke still could not shake the feeling that something was wrong with Nathan.  
  
"If I don't see you again," Nathan said, "Could you take care of my father and my brother's graves?"  
  
"Of course," Brooke said. At this point, the woman felt no need to pry any further. Nathan was set on keeping silent about whatever he was hiding.  
  
Nathan looked up at Brooke and smiled before closing the door. Starting the car, he rolled down the window to face her again.  
  
Brooke leaned in and gave Nathan a tender kiss on the forehead, "Whatever you're going through, just be careful. I'd hate to see you go, too."  
  
"Yes, mother," Nathan said and put the car in gear, "And you do the same...okay?"  
  
Brooke nodded and lifted her head from the car and backed away, watching and waving as the Mustang sped off down the road and out of her sight. 


	5. PG13: An Afterword

~Note that this is simply the author's Afterword and is, in essence, a supplement to the story (read: SPOILERS AHOY!). Therefore, it does not need to be reviewed as it is purely for your enjoyment and my sanity. Unless you find it necessary to review my razor sharp wit, then have at it...~  
  
AFTERWORD: PG-13  
  
I hope that all of you have enjoyed reading this angsty and tragic little brainchild of mine. Yes, I'm talking to all two of you out there that pitied me so much that you had your friends put me on your author alert lists even though they could give a rat's pink asshole about me or my story.   
  
Seriously though, I really appreciate your time and patience because, let's be real here. My story is no picnic to sit through. The damn thing goes on and on and on for a little over thirty thousand words. That's roughly seven thousand five hundred words PER CHAPTER or about SEVEN college level essays, in my frame of thinking.   
  
Heh. After all of that reading, I think I'd definitely need a piss break. Maybe even a beer break.   
  
I also commend every one of you that actually waited on my next chapter without losing patience with me and wishing me to a fiery pit in hell for my refusal to complete the story in a timely manner. Although I do think some people cursed me to have writer's block because for a long time I stared at the damn thing without ever coming up with a thought.   
  
Now, let me address some issues with the story. First and foremost, ahem...  
  
WHAT THE HELL?? HALEY AND KEITH!!?  
  
Yes, gentle readers, Haley... and Keith. You gotta admit, it's never been done before, not to mention that it starts off the final chapter with a bang. And I mean BANG!! It's totally unexpected, especially considering that these are two characters that hardly know one another. So when they suddenly shack up and do the nasty, that's cause for more than just a few eyebrow lifts and dumbfounded stares.   
  
Hey...don't look at my words that way! I'm NOT a pervert. I just have a tendency to think up crazy things that normal people may not take very kindly to.   
  
Really, though, I just thought it would be very interesting to do, especially when I left things off between the two in chapter three. Yes, I know, sweet embraces over deceased loved ones don't always lead to sex, but there's always a chance they can! I'm just glad I had the restraint to keep it tasteful.  
  
You don't even want to know what type of sexual depravity I've written for this site when the NC-17 rating was still in effect...  
  
Next up is probably something I noticed and readers were too nice to point out to me: why the hell was there so much crying?   
  
Obviously, this is a tragic fic lead by the death of a primary character. There's supposed to be crying and weeping and yelling and screaming and all-around angst for everyone. I wanted it to be that type of fic, yet I think I may have written just a bit too much emotion, almost to the point where people seemed to come unraveled at the slightest thing, not to mention that someone said a certain character (Peyton, I think) was slightly out of character. Eh, I wouldn't doubt that she is, seeing as how I just barely kept up with the show to begin with and now I hardly ever watched it (although I did see this past Tuesday's episode: Brooke lies about being pregnant? What the fu...you BITCH!!)  
  
Maybe I should tone down the next tragic fic that I do. Still, reviews speak volumes and many of you think that what I'm doing is fine, so...  
  
Okay, so another thing I have with this story is original characters.   
  
I only created three and wanted to keep it as such. Original characters are so hard to keep up with primarily because I have to describe what they look like, their personalities, their mannerisms, their origins, and then flesh out their relationships with who ever the hell they come into contact with. With Ely it was simple: Lucas' killer=instant antagonist. Provide background info, follow him for a few chapters, and then drop him like a bad habit.   
  
David and Lauren were even easier primarily because I wanted them to play a special role in the finale, but not so special to where they would take up most of the chapter. Just a little show here to make readers say "Wow!" and then they're off just as quickly as they came on the scene.  
  
Hope you liked all three of them. You'll probably never hear from either one again. The only way David and Lauren would appear in another one of MY fics is if I went crazy and thought it was actually fun juggling two original characters around in a twenty year later Tree Hill. But that is a good idea though. Hmm...  
  
Probably another big question is why I killed off Lucas.   
  
Well, it's not that I don't like him, because I really do. But killing off the main character or the hero of any major story is an obvious thing to do for any author. It's also one of the most generic and continuously redone plots in fan fiction history. But one thing that is rarely done is actually keeping the damned person done.   
  
Usually, by some stroke of magic, said character rises from the grave and lives on to see another day. In my stories, when a character dies, their done, finished, and gone. FOREVER. There are no take-backs. Once it's done, it's done. I don't even entertain the notion of a person's spirit being reborn. Maybe their face, like in the instance of David, but never their soul as a person.  
  
I guess that's what makes stories like these really sad, when you know there is no possible way for said character, especially a beloved one like Lucas, to revive or resurrect.  
  
In the end, I had a lot of fun doing this little story, even though it took me an eternity and a day just to update it. I hope all of you enjoyed it and hope you continue to read my stories (except the sexually deviant ones...leave those alone. They're nasty!).   
  
Thanks for your support and I'll try to support every one of you by reading your stories as well.  
  
Sincerely.............SA17 


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